


Of Ice And Starlight

by Wander_Seeker



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elf, M/M, Pre-Hobbit, Thranduil Not Being An Asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 48,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3304574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wander_Seeker/pseuds/Wander_Seeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a time before the dragon had claimed Erebor and Greenwood was still vibrant, an old forgotten elf may change the fate of a king or two. This is is me. Playing with an idea and an AU involing and OC. No violence toward the author or fellow readers please. I may change the rating later though. Changed rating to "T" just in case for the upcomming chapters. --Re-uploaded/ing from FanFiction--</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_The season was winter for there was a brisk chill in the air. The scent of sea spray, eucalyptus, and newly wet soil filled the air as the sun slowly crept from beneath the horizon. Atop a cliff overlooking a glassy sea sat a shining silver building. It's design was elegant and intricate with patterns and carvings depicting the past, present, and, it was rumored, future. The building was a single round structure that reached far into the clouds with it's lone spire. At it's base sat a large courtyard that shone like the moon and was adorned with the finest of marble. Out from the building strode two figures. In front walked a young male with starlight hair garbed in a silver tunic and black pants. And behind him came a raven haired young male garbed with a black tunic accented in silver and black pants accented with ice blue. The courtyard had a few people moving about with their daily business. Suddenly with a smile the blonde turned and playfully shoved the raven haired male's shoulder before turning and racing away all the while laughing. The other followed letting out a small laugh as well._

" _Only an elf could hope to catch me!" the blonde called as the other's fingers grazed his tunic._

" _Unlucky for you I am one!" He laughed nearly catching hold of the blonde's shoulder. It was then that the starlight haired male sped up. The dark haired male was both shocked and amused that the other had not been going as fast as he could. He ran harder to catch him but he was always just out of arm's reach. They turned and twisted about the courtyard darting between people and hopping over a few boxes and through a fountain. Just when the raven haired male thought he would catch him the blonde threw himself over a large wall decorated with intricate carvings. The raven haired male knew immediately that this dropped down to the sea below. He slowed and turned himself on top of the wall to take a few steps away. It only took a second to gauge how far the drop was and as he turned back to face the wall the dark haired male ran forward with a shout. As he flew over the edge of the wall he could see the blonde swimming towards the opposite shore. The raven haired male's momentum from the fall was more than enough to propel him to the bottom of the water where he turned and pushed off it in the direction the other male was swimming. When he surfaced he was mere feet away from the other and with a few strokes of his legs the dark haired male overtook the starlight haired male._

" _Caught you!" He announced as he grabbed onto the blonde and his head came to rest upon the other male's chest._

" _Yes you did." the starlight haired male cooed as he laughed softly and embraced the other as they both made their way to the opposite shore._

It was the sound of laughter that awoke him. Blue eyes slowly cracked open to greet the noon-day sun peering through the window of the wooden house in which he had taken refuge for the night. Carefully he sat up and swung a pair of moonlight skinned legs over the edge of the small human bed. His raven hair swayed in the light breeze he made as he moved silently across the, normally, creaky wooden floor. A small groan escaped his lips as he looked at his reflection in the conveniently placed mirror on the wall. In his sleep his hair had become a mess. The braids in his hair had been torn asunder and there were large angry red gashes adorning his left temple. Slender fingers reached into his pant pockets to retrieve a few bits of the herb called Kingsfoil. A small hiss slipped from him as he pressed it to the wounds and with a few words the gashes disappeared into nothing no longer marring his otherwise flawless, pale skin.

"Good morning Himelon," he sighed to himself as he combed and untangled his black hair, "Would have thought you'd look better after a nice dream like that." Talking to himself. It was a bad habit of Himelon's ever since he was very young. He fiddled with his hair for a good minute before deciding that he'd wear it down and free today.

"Clothes…." Himelon trailed off as he scanned the room for his discarded clothes. Spotting the black and blue tunic and black and silver pants he moved over to the table by the window where he'd left them and quickly dressed. Curiosity compelled Himelon as he pushed the window open to look out upon the bustling city of men called Dale. It was mid-spring and the scent of flowers assaulted his nose as the laughter of children grew ever louder through the open window. As he watched the venders go about their trades Himelon situated a mithril circlet with a blue pearl as the centerpiece on his head and subconsciously rubbed the tips of his pointed ears.

Yes indeed. He was an elf. But not an elf like the ones known by most of Middle Earth. He was much older than those of Imladris, Lothlorien, and Greenwood the Great. He was the first to arrive in Middle Earth, the first to stray away from his kin as they traveled through the land, and determined to be the last to leave the world he now dwelt. Instead of living among one of the elven cities he had taken to traveling about the world always. From the highest peaks of the Misty Mountains to the deepest depths of the dwarf mines he had been.

He stood there for a time rubbing his ear and thinking. It had indeed been a long time since he had dreamt of such pleasant things as Valinor and even longer since he had dreamt of the starlight haired elf male. He never could quite place why he dreamt of the blonde. He knew these dreams were memories of his life before he had awoken in Middle Earth, but they always felt so distant and unfamiliar. Sighing Himelon brought his hand down from his head, gathered his light pack, and moved toward the door ultimately startling a young maid who was checking on guests of the inn.

"Good morning! Err, afternoon!" she chirped after getting over the shock of nearly being hit in the face by a door. Her shoulder-length, nut-brown, curly hair bounced as she moved out of the way with a smile.

"Slept well I see," she giggled, "Most guests don't sleep for so long. Then again most guests are men in a hurry or dwarves who need to get something done." Himelon had been moving down the stairs to the main room of the inn with her in tow. He had wrongfully assumed she would leave if he didn't respond.

"Hm.." he nodded glancing back at her, "Dwarves must frequent here because it is so close to their mountain." The statement was obvious. Most everyone knew that, but in truth Himelon had never been too good with conversation. Especially with races other than his own. The brunette girl nodded and skipped in front of him before an all too excited question leapt from her lips.

"So," she began with a rather silly grin, "are you like a thousand years old or something? I heard elves live to be that old." Himelon had abruptly stopped when he had found himself looking down at an all too excited female.

"Yes we do," the raven haired elf smiled softly at her child-like enthusiasm, "I however am older than that even." The girl's eyes widened as she made a variety of gasps and squeaks before stepping aside and bowing quickly.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, "Mum says it's rude to ask about people's age." Himelon chucked softly before sighing.

"It's alright," he replied, "I don't really care about such odd social protocol." With that he nodded and was off into the mess of bustling streets. For the majority of his journey south he had been torn. Should he proceed to Erebor from Dale or should he journey to Greenwood?

"I don't particularly feel like dealing with dwarves," Himelon sighed as he gazed south at the woods creeping along the lake in the distance, "and nothing says I _have_ to even go see my woodland kin. I could just pass through hopefully unnoticed." With a nod and his mind made up the raven haired elf turned his stride south towards Greenwood The Great.


	2. Chapter 2

"Wake up!" the words seemed to echo around in the darkness for everywhere, "Do I have to drag you out myself?" the question was accented with a sharp shoving sensation. As the scene unfolded from the blackness the first sight was milky white of a soft blanket. From beneath the silken fabric a head of starlight hair peeked. It was followed by an, all too sleep-dazed, porcelain face accented with ice blue eyes. With a small groan the starlight haired male began to scan the white room for his attacker only to find he was face down on the strong wooden floor! Stunned he shot to his feet and whirled to search the immediate area. 

"Oh good! You're awake." The same voice from before called from the corner opposite the starlight haired male's current position. He spun quickly to catch a glimpse of the individual speaking. All the came into view was the view of raven hair and silver clothes. Yet he knew the other. The image was unclear and yet so familiar. The raven haired male moved slowly to lay a hand on his shoulder. 

"Well get dressed," he spoke with a chuckle, "Or did you forget that I'm going to show you the harbor today?" The starlight haired male wanted to speak. But he never could manage to hear his own words. His mouth moved as he dressed in a sliver tunic and black pants per usual. The cool marble the was intermingled with the wood of his home comforted his feet as he returned to face the blurred visage of the raven haired male. Silently they walked side by side down through the extravagantly carved building and into the open grassy area that would, eventually, transition into the sea sand. 

"Can't catch me!" the raven haired male laughed as he shoved the starlight haired male in the side before tearing off toward the sea. He gave chase coming ever so close to grabbing the individual in front of him, yet all his fingers found was the gentle caress of black hair. For hours they ran through the grass darting in and out of sparse groups of trees or particularly tall grass. Always the raven haired male was just a finger's breath away. Teasing and never reaching. It was wonderful though. The starlight haired male felt the deep hearted laughs tearing from his throat through his whole being and got the sense he had never been happier. As grass gave way to sand the blonde lunged forward through the air in a leap. 

"Mine!" he shouted as his body made contact with silver cloth and ebony locks. They fell with a squeal tangling fabric and limbs as they rolled down the dunes to the edge of the sweet blue water. As the cool waves brushed against them the blonde sighed softly pulling the other male into a tight embrace. 

"Mine." he uttered again much more softly this time. A heartfelt laugh from the raven haired male in his arms sent shivers up and down his spine. For a time they just laid there where sand met the sea content to never move again it seemed. By the time the starlight haired male sat up to move the sun was low in the sky. As he turned his eyes back ahead of him the blonde found himself standing near a harbor with thousands of silver ships waiting to sail free. The frame was pure white birch wood adorned with gems of moonlight and starlight while the sails were an elegant grey fabric the glistened against the reflection of the water. As he looked at them the starlight haired male felt a pang of sorrow and fear deep in his core. 

"I sail East at dawn," the softly spoken statement was like thunder in the blonde's ears, "Our paths will likely not cross again." The starlight haired male wanted to grab hold of the other, command him to stay, or even go with him. The raven haired male's words were like acid but as his hand reached for the other blackness enveloped him once more.

Ice blue eyes shot open to reveal an intricately carved wooden ceiling. He laid in a large soft bed with red silk sheets and over-fluffed pillows. The air smelled of pine and gardenia flowers. His eyes roamed the large room that was all too familiar. Stone and wood wove together to make a solid yet elegant structure with two large doors carved in images depicting the history of the woodland realm as the only way in an out. He tried to quell his panic by closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

"Only a dream." he muttered to himself as he started to drift back into the world of sleep. "My King?" the question came softly and almost fearfully from a small female voice in the doorway, "Are you awake?" His eyes snapped open again at the sound. The sudden movement all the golden haired she-elf needed as permission before stepping completely across the threshold of the door. She was small for an elf and carried fresh white towels in her left hand while skillfully balancing a meal in the other. She wore a simple pale blue dress which her golden hair framed perfectly. The King rose silently from the bed and glided over to a solid mahogany dresser and mirror in the left corner of the room near a large window. From atop the dresser he carefully picked up the woven wood crown adorned with red berries and green leaves that had not to long ago belonged to his father.

"It's yours now Thranduil," he thought bitterly to himself. It had been only 50 years ago that he had inherited the crown and now he was being plagued with dreams that quickly turned to nightmares. He knew them to be memories but they were ones that he did not wish to remember. Not yet. Not now. Pushing the window open he closed his eyes as a small breeze heavy with the scent of the various flowers and trees in Greenwood flowed in and tousled his long starlight locks. Taking in a deep breath the Elven King took notice that it was nearly midday.

"Why was I not woken sooner?" Thranduil questioned the golden haired she-elf who was now busy laying out a long silver tunic and black pants next to newly polished silver boots, "Did you realize it was midday?" The eleth squeaked and jumped softly in surprise at the sudden address and demand to explain herself.

"I thought my lord would like to rest a bit longer," she responded quietly, "You've been having nightmares recently…" she trailed of looking down at the floor. It was true he'd been sleeping uneasily and he had snapped at her a few times for bringing it up. With the loss of his father and the strange dreams Thranduil's patience and temper had been wearing thin.

"Thank you." the Elven King spoke softly with a sigh as he glided passed her toward the large bathing pool in one of the adjourning rooms, "I have been sleeping poorly as of late." As he sunk into the warm water Thranduil couldn't help but wonder why he kept dreaming of Valinor and the raven haired elf male. It was ordinarily in one's early youth that their memories of the time before would return to them. For him they never had and now they wouldn't leave him be. Nothing was ever clear and it was frustrating to say the least. With a sigh he tried to put his dreams as far away from his thoughts as possible. Certainly there was something more important in his kingdom to think on. With that Thranduil rose and headed off to get dressed and finish grooming himself for the day.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Himelon had reached the edge of the magnificent green forest it was nearly nightfall. The moon was full and hung ever so softly in the darkening sky as the stars began to creep out to view the world. Their reflection in the large lake and wide river made the water appear to be glistening with light from within. The raven haired elf sighed as he sat down on a rock near the water and watched the daylight be consumed by the night. Night always had been his favorite time of day. It was cold and dark with only the soft light of the moon and stars keeping watch over the land. Their soft, protective, light was always his favorite. The harsh glaring light of the sun had always hurt his eyes and Himelon had only found it to be beautiful and more pleasant under a canopy of trees or when filtering down through something. Dimmed. That was the key to pleasant light. As the sun faded the lights of Laketown slowly appeared in the distance casting a golden glow over the ever present lake mist. Himelon sat on his rock until the final traces of the lights in the distance, from both Dale and Laketown, had gone black and all that remained were the moon and stars. Pulling his white bow and a silver arrow into his hands he rose and faced the, still as lively as in the daytime, forest. If he was to pass through unnoticed by his woodland kin Himelon would need to move through the night. Sleep could wait.

Greenwood was none the less beautiful at night than in the day. The way the moon shone through the leaves of the trees casting various green tinted shadows across everything and the gentle breeze that blew the aromas of flowers through the air made it a very relaxing location. The path that cut through the forest was paved with mindfully placed cobblestones and the trees of the forest had been wisely woven into the path's design to make the canyons and valleys of the forest effortless to navigate. Hanging at regular intervals were lanterns lit with glowing crystals of starlight to aid in visibility on moonless nights. Their glow and the soft filtered light from above made the whole of Greenwood glow in silver as if the forest itself was made of mithril and soft light. The light, life, and grace of the elves who called the forest home was evident. Their feral and dangerous nature was also evident. It was difficult to see and, to anyone but an elf, it would likely go unnoticed but just off the path there were remnants of a fight. An unidentifiable creature of the approximate size of either a small man or large dwarf laid just beneath a fallen log riddled with white feathered arrows.

"What sort of fool fights when cornered by ones of greater skill?" Himelon whispered softly to himself as he passed the unfortunate creature with down turned eyes saying a silent prayer for the fallen soul, "Still, they didn't have to kill it…" Violence and a lack of the deep running wisdom of their kin. This was the very reason Himelon was wary to visit with Silvan elves. They do not take well to others in their forest, kin or no, unless they had explicitly been invited. Too many times had the raven haired elf faced down a pack of brunettes and red-heads for simply walking along the path through the forest. Too often had such encounters ended in arguments with King Oropher and his predecessors. Himelon was determined to just get through the forest without incident this time. No Silvan elves, no violence, and no having to explain himself before the king. At least that had been his aim before he had wandered off the path while brooding to himself about how he was going to walk through Greenwood without incident.

"And now I'm lost." Himelon growled to himself mentally berating his own actions, "Brilliant." He took a deep breath and turned in the direction he thought the path should be in. Greenwood was quite large though and, judging from the slight amount of orange peeking through the leaves of the canopy, he had been walking around in it for a lot longer than he had initially surmised. On the plus side at least he was feeling comfortable and safe enough to zone out. That didn't happen very often anymore. The raven haired male wandered around the forest for a good part of the morning ever vigilant for signs of life other than the forest creature and listening for water. Where there was water, there was a river, and where there was river there was a path to follow out of the forest. Although Himelon's footsteps fell silently upon the ground, or tree branches in some cases, he knew his woodland kin had ways of knowing when someone was in their forest. Wards to alert of intruders and pacts with the trees and animals themselves. Many, if not all of the guards were sensitive to disturbances in their early warning system and had undoubtedly noticed someone tromping around their wood without permission.


	4. Chapter 4

It was still early morning in Greenwood when news of an intruder spread through the guard. It had been King Thranduil's intention to go out riding on that particular morning so the news had been more unsettling to the Captain of the guard than it would have been otherwise. There were procedures for this kind of thing and the threat was ordinarily eliminated quietly with no real need to inform the King, but this was different. This wasn't a trespassing dwarf or lost human. If the reports of sparrows and rabbits were to be trusted, it was an elf seemingly of Sindarin origins. After much debate with himself, the red haired Captain turned his gait toward the stables with a group of six other guards in tow.

"My king," he spoke softly with his gaze downcast from the starlight haired male stroking a rather large elk, "there is an intruder. Perhaps your ride should be postponed until this is dealt with." His voice had been soft and swift. He had hoped that the proposition would not be objectionable.

"There are protocol for these situations are there not?" the King's voice came as cool and calm as the stream and as filled with agitation and annoyance as the roaring flame. Thranduil's gaze had not moved from his elk and he was in no real mood to instruct his Captain on what to do when the procedure was clear. Last night had been particularly difficult seeing as how he had been tormented by images of the raven haired male being mutilated in various horrible ways while he stood helpless. Thranduil needed this morning ride to clear his head and calm his nerves. He certainly didn't need to be thinking that his guards were becoming incompetent.

"Yes sir." the captain spoke barely above a whisper, "It's just that.."

"Then take care of it." the king's words had been sharp an punctuated as he climbed onto the elk's back in one fluid movement. The intent had been to end the conversation and from the look of the slightly startled captain it had worked. The red haired guard blink dumbly for a moment from the shock of being cut off so. Although known to be ill-tempered Thranduil had never cut him off like that. In moments he rebounded taking a few steps forward now making eye contact with the king.

"The intruder is an elf." the red haired guard spoke almost as sharply as his king had, "Shall we hunt him or apprehend him?" the question had been filled with the aggression coursing through the captain's veins. He had never really been good with being interrupted and had a temper and a half on him. More than once he had been punished for snapping at king Oropher which is why he'd tried to be particularly careful when it came to Thranduil. If the new king had the temper of the last, he'd certainly be punished for this display. The starlight haired king glared down at the captain which caused the red head to break eye contact.

"Forgive me," the captain mutter softly, "I do not like the idea of hunting our kin." He spoke more reservedly this time and forced his eyes to the ground so as not to make things worse for himself.

"I will deal with your outburst later," the Elvenking stated making certain his meaning was clear, "For now I will trust you to handle the situation properly." He had pointedly not answered his question. His Captain should be more than capable of making such a decision. Thranduil assumed the intruder was likely from Lothlorien or Imladris. If his assumption was right they would undoubtedly surrender immediately. It was not like his kin to be violent when coming to visit.

"Yes sir." the red head whispered and nodded as the large golden elk trotted by him. Once it was out of sight he raised his head and let out an annoyed sigh.

"He could've at least answered my question!" he muttered angrily to the air while gather up his six, "Alright. Split into groups of two, corner him and apprehend him. Do not attack unless attacked." the Captain glared down each of the others to make his point. A few of them were still youths and were a bit trigger-happy when it came to catching thins or people. With a resounding "Yes sir!" they were off into the depths of Greenwood. The intruder had been seem moving west toward the river so that is where they would wait for him.

Grumbling softly to himself Himelon trudged through the wood toward the growing sound of running water. His bow was drawn and an arrow was poised to be fired. Every little crunch or snap set his eyes search for the cause. Time after time it had been a bunny or bird and he was officially getting tired of being set on edge by meeting his kin in the forest. Weren't they all supposed to be friends? If this was Imladris he'd be welcomed with open arms and likely a meal and bed. Not fear of being shot by someone who could be his cousin and a place in the dungeons.

As the sound of water grew ever louder Himelon found himself feeling ever more on edge. As he glimpsed the brilliant blue water that was the main river cutting through Greenwood he found himself feeling less like an elf in a forest and more like a deer searching for the hunters it knew were waiting just beyond the clearing. More out of habit than anything else the raven haired male threw a large rock into the clearing to see if there would be movement. When nothing was visible he climbed up a large oak tree and slowly inched along a thick branch that hung over the river. Slowly and carefully he emerged from the foliage and out onto the branch. After a moment of sitting there scanning the tree-line he hopped down swinging slightly from his knees as he did so. The cool of the water felt amazing on his warm feet. Letting out a soft purr the raven haired elf straightened his back and began walking through the current near the bank where it was still shallow.

"Maybe they thought I wasn't worth it this time." Himelon chuckled to himself. He'd never gotten this far without encountering someone before. His hopes were shattered however by the slight sound of footsteps behind him. There was no need to turn and see who it was. Himelon knew the identity of his pursuers and he was not going to stick around to be tied and dragged in front of the king. He bolted into the forest. As braches whipped past him and his feet took him from the ground to the tree branches the sound of footsteps grew faster and a few shouts and orders were defiantly audible. The chase raced through the whole of Greenwood for upwards of an hour. Himelon had been the first to fire an arrow. When he'd gotten sight of a young brunette female he'd sent an arrow singing past her ear ever so slightly cutting her cheek. Had he been trying to hit her he would have. Yet the response was immediate. White feathered arrows came at him sticking in the branches, ground, and tree trunk where his feet and body had been mere moments before. The chase came to an abrupt end when Himelon felt himself make contact with something large and furry. He had spun around to fire another arrow and as he faced forward the raven haired male had found himself running smack dab into an oversized elk carrying someone garbed in silver starlight. With a gasp and a thud Himelon found himself laying on his back in the middle of the forest path. In moments he had every guard in the area pointing white feathered arrows in his face. The choice at hand, draw his sword and become a pincushion or surrender.

Thranduil had been startled when the raven haired male had collided with his mount. His shock had grown when he angrily turned his gaze to the elf now sprawled out on the path on to be struck with a deep pang in his gut. As Himelon raised his hand in surrender he froze. His eyes made contact with the ice blue ones of the starlight haired elf atop the large beast and his heart stopped. Himelon knew him. Or at least that was the first thought to ring forcefully in his brain. Even as the guards hauled him to his feet and bound his hands Himelon couldn't tear his eyes away from the male garbed in silver. His gut told him that he knew him, but he just couldn't place where from. It wasn't until he found himself being led through large wooden doors and down into the depths of the tree infused cave that was the palace of Greenwood that Himelon found himself trying to rationalize and suppress the powerful thought. They couldn't know each other. The only other elf Himelon had had extended contact with since waking in Middle Earth was Elrond. And the blonde he had seen atop the elk was certainly not the master of Imladris. As the gate of the cell Himelon had been, all too forcefully, shoved into closed he came out of his daze shaking his head and growling audibly. He did not know him and he could not believe he was going to be stuck down here for goodness knows how long.

"Stupid elk!" Himelon grumbled to himself, "Bad brain! Damn beautiful, distracting elf!" Wait did he just say beautiful? No. Not beautiful. Just distracting. Why would he think that of some youth he'd just seen for a split second? There it was again. That pang that said he knew the starlight haired male. With a growl and a strong punch to the cell wall causing a rather large chunk to break off and clatter to the floor, Himelon tried in vain to put the starlight haired, elk riding elf from his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Fourteen times the lanterns' glows had grown brighter in the darkness outside his cell. Fourteen times the sun had set then. Himelon pawed softly at the floor inside the carved stone room he had been placed. Normally the guards would have taken him up to see the king long before now. At least, that's how it had always gone. One or two days tops locked in a cell, then he'd be brought before the king who'd question his purposes, then there would be the scolding and eventually he'd be let leave. That's how it had always gone with Oropher and those before him. They didn't really want him there taking up space and resources than he wanted to be there. So when a few days had turned into a few weeks, the raven haired elf began to feel a bit unnerved. He'd heard stories of people, ordinarily dwarves if the tales were true, being left to die in the dungeons. In truth he knew better than to think his woodland kin to be so cruel, but Himelon wouldn't put torture for sport passed a few of the more violent guards. Himelon had not eaten or slept for the duration of his stay thus far. The guards had brought him a bit of bread and some water, but the raven haired elf was too paranoid that the food was drugged to eat it and the paranoia that an unscrupulous guard would try to harm him in his sleep kept him awake. Generally being left alone in a dark, cold, hole in the wall with little to no food would be called an attempt to weaken the enemy. By this time the raven haired male had huddled himself in the corner furthest from the bars. He just sat there staring ahead and pawing at some of the rock he'd knocked loose when he'd first been placed here. As he watched the ebb and glow of the silver starlight lanterns a shadow caught his eye. High above his housing, toward the top of the seemingly endless waterfall that marked the beginning of the stairs that descended to the depths of the dungeons there had been someone. It had only been for a second, but there had been a figure there. Rising to see who it might have been Himelon pressed his head as far into the bars as he could to get a better look. As his eyes carefully studied the top of the waterfall they were met with nothing but water and the soft glow of the lanterns.

"So now I'm going mad?" Himelon half questioned and half laughed to himself. No, there had been a fleeting shadow. A tall figure with long hair and the most fleeting glimpse of silver. He was torn from his puzzling by footsteps. Turning his gaze down the long winding pathways that led through the dungeons, either further down or further up, there were two guards coming his way. Neither looked pleased. Himelon recognized one of them. The red haired elf captain that had been chasing him through the forest was on the lead. He look more puzzled than angry white his white haired friend just seemed angry.

"Hello," Himelon offered with a soft smile, "What brings you fine gentlemen down so far beneath the halls of your brethren?" Pleasantries were truly wasted. Himelon had learned in his life that a smile and soft words could buy time at the very least and sway the hearts of one's enemy in the best case. The white haired male's face seemed to soften a tad while the red head remained the same.

"We are moving you." the words fell from the red haired male as if they were painful to utter. Himelon surmised that he'd likely been the one behind trying to keep him down here. The raven haired male nodded and stepped aside so that the gate could be opened. He expected to be bound again, but instead they just ushered him out of the cell and began the ascent toward the main halls of Greenwood. The simple stone paths and walls slowly became the same intricately woven wood-stone combination that the Silvan elves were known for crafting. Carvings and paintings adorned the walls and the elegantly entwined patterns created from woven stone and wood for the pillars holding up the structure was breathtaking. The ceilings grew ever higher until they no longer could be seen and the cave in which the palace was built felt more like the forest floor and a cave. The pathways arched a slithered through the place. The depths of the cavern as far away as the ceiling. Even where he'd been in the dungeons Himelon had not been able to see the bottom. As they wove their way through the structure there were a few servants that stared, most of them looking confused, but aside from that no one bothered them. Himelon was led by the guards ever higher into the building that seemed also to be made of a large tree sitting atop the cave. When the carvings grew in their ornate nature and the decorations became more lavish, Himelon began to wonder if perhaps the king had chosen to have him brought to his study. He'd never before been this far up in the palace. They stopped before a pair of rather large and beautifully carved doors. Himelon initially assumed this was a private room of the king's, but that assumption was shattered when the red haired captain spoke.

"These will be your rooms until further notice." the Captain had stated this ever so simply that Himelon was initially to surprised to answer. The doors were pushed open and Himelon found himself being rather forcefully pushed in. The interior was as intricate and beautiful as the rest of the palace. Rich grey stone dotted with flecks of silver and blue weaves elegantly with pale and fragrant pine. The ceiling is but a glowing green speck high above the room and on the north facing wall is a set of large frosted windows framed in carved red wood. The window overlooks and area of Greenwood that held a flowing steam, waterfall, lake, and a courtyard covered in pure white cobblestone. Along the east wall is a door that, judging from the sound, leads to a bathing room with an underground spring fed pond for a bathing pool. To the west wall is a pine dresser and crystal mirror while to the south sit's the bed. It is made of sturdy, dark, mahogany and is adorned with silver sheets and plush pillows. Scanning the room and finding it vacant Himelon made his way over to the window. He let the cooling air flood the room as he leaned out the window to watch the setting sun. Once the moon had taken the domain that was the sky the raven haired elf made his way over to the bed. He tested it with his hand first before sitting. It was a habit born of staying in human villages. The beds there never were sturdy but this one was as soft as a pile of feathers and was certain not to break. Stretching Himelon rid himself of his tunic and quickly set about wrapping the soft silver sheets around him and drawing a large body pillow into his embrace. The ultimate effect was creating a nest of sorts.

"Better a cage like this," Himelon sighed and yawned, "than the dungeons." With that he closed his eyes, snuggled up to the pillow, and fell nearly instantly into a deep sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Thranduil had found himself even more uneasy than when his ride had first begun. Things had been going well. The forest was a rich green with blooming gems of flowers all around. The songs of birds and the occasionally bold and curious creature had been calming his nerves. Everything had been going as it should until he'd heard shouts coming from the east of his wood. Stopping to try and see what the commotion was had been a mistake. No sooner had the king commanded his mount to stop had someone come bolting out from the trees running full sprint into his elk shortly after shooting an arrow at his pursuers. Shock quickly turned to anger which was abruptly punched out of him by the all consuming feeling that he knew this trespasser. The unidentified male had been dressed in black, silver, and blue and carried a white bow with silver arrows accompanied by an ancient blade of moonlight with mithril hilt. He wore no shoes and the raven hair simply had made his pale skin and pale blue eyes shine. Thranduil had found himself at a loss for words as the stranger blinked dumbly up at him from his position sprawled out on the path. The main comfort of the situation to the King was that every single guard in the immediate area had responded immediately and in less than a minute the trespassing elf had been hauled to his feet, bound, and led away undoubtedly to the dungeons. The starlight haired king watched the group leave until they had completely vanished into the forest. With a crease in his brow and a gnawing ache in his gut Thranduil had continued his ride through Greenwood hoping it would alleviate this strange sensation of familiarity. He was certain there was no way they could have met. The raven haired elf's hair was too dark for anyone he could have ever net in Imladris or Lothlorien and even the Silvan elves of the woodland realm never had truly black hair. If Thranduil had seen him before he would have remembered it. Not matter how far into the forest he went the feeling never did get any better.

The Elven King had tried to go about his day as usual and if anyone noticed something was off they said nothing. He tried to keep this up for a few days. Completing paperwork, attending meetings, keeping up to date with the opinions of his people and keeping up his image in the public eye were things that were far more important than focusing on an intruding elf who tried to kill his men. Yet every time the matter of what to do with the elf in the dungeons came up Thranduil found himself avoiding the question and obsessing over the incident in the forest. The more the king tried to avoid the matter of the raven haired elf the worse he felt and the more violent his dreams and nightmares became. What had started out as heart wrenching excerpts from the time before his birth in Middle Earth had slowly become depraved images of darkness, violence, and death. How such things could ever be associated with a single elf male he could not fathom. Thranduil had taken to assuming , along with his healer and friend in whom he'd confided his troubles, that it was all stress and grief induced. His friend had even gone so far as to give him sedatives and nightly doses of starlight to try to soothe the horrific images swirling in his head. Nothing seemed to help however. One night about five days after the raven haired male had been brought into the palace Thranduil made a silent trip to the dungeons. He was hoping beyond all hope that perhaps seeing the visage that plagued his mind might ease his nightmares. Thranduil had become very much aware that the blurred image of black hair and silver cloth that appeared in his dreams had to be this elf. No one else that he'd ever seen had black hair.

From high atop the dungeons he watched. Thranduil watched his prisoner night after night from his place by the waterfall. He watched as the black haired male struggled to test the walls and gates of his cage. Pulling and pushing fiercely at them ultimately knocking stone loose as if it were moss and bending the enchanted iron gates like they were saplings. Nothing ever did give enough to free him though and the gate would always return to its original shape. He watched as his captive's attempts became more frantic and almost panicked. As he reached out trying to grab any guard who came too close, rushing the door whenever someone had turned their back to him. On one occasion the raven haired male had caught hold of a guard and had sharply smashed him into the bars and stone outside the cell in an attempt to get the keys. Had said guard been carrying keys the raven haired captive would have succeeded. As the days turned into weeks Thranduil saw the other male's fight ebb away into what seemed to be fear and depression. As if he'd resigned himself to whatever may come next the raven haired male had slunk into the back of the cell, just out of the king's sight, and huddled there unmoving.

On the fourteenth day there had been a council meeting called. It was intended to be about what would or could be done about the dragons terrorizing some of the elven and human trading towns in the far north. The decision to aid their kin and fight had been quick and at a later date the discussion would likely turn toward when they would go and how many would go, but for now it was done. Thranduil had remained stationary on his antler throne long after the council had left. He'd been thinking about what to do with his prisoner. It had been two weeks now and something had to be done. Of course he'd have to be questioned at very least but if his initial response to his imprisonment had been anything to go by, Thranduil worried that the raven haired elf may become violent again. Sighing and rubbing his eyes the Elven King slowly let himself drift off into a shallow slumber where he sat.

"I don't like cages," the all too familiar voice seemed to echo from all around him. There was no scene. Just blackness a voice and the ever blurry visage of the raven haired elf male.

"They remind me too much of something…" the voice trialed off and almost sounded pained. As if someone was trying ever so hard to keep away from tears.

"Of what?" Thranduil asked quietly surprised that he could hear his own voice for once. He swiveled his head trying to see something. Anything. Yet there was only blackness in all directions.

"Of a darkness that once tried to spread here from far in the East," the voice spoke with a slight wavering and Thranduil knew immediately that the voice's owner was now crying, "Of black tendrils that tried to take root in the souls of my father and I. I never want to even think about it again!" The way the words echoed around him broke the star lighted haired king's heart. He wanted to reach for the owner of the voice. To hold him and tell him it was okay. That he was safe now. That he too knew the horrors of this shadow. But he could not. Like a tether pulling and tugging at his mind Thranduil found himself being pulled backward. Back to his body. His halls. His throne.

"My King!" the word had been practically shouted at him. Suppressing a slight flinch Thranduil found himself looking down at a very angry looking Captain of the guard. With the most casual stance and fiercest glare he could muster the Elven King stared down at the red haired elf male currently glaring him down.

"What is it?" Thranduil's tone was cool and almost bored while his eyes told another story. The Captain visibly flinched and took a step backward while directing his searing gaze at the stone floor.

"Forgive me," the red haired Captain began through gritted teeth trying his hardest to hold his tongue for the memory of his punishment for his prior outburst was still all too fresh, "I was inquiring of my lord as to what should be done about the prisoner. It has been fourteen days now." The red haired male pointedly avoided mentioning that the king had fallen asleep. He certainly did not need to make things any worse. He was still sore from last time he'd spoken too boldly. Thranduil audibly sighed sinking deeper into his throne. Closing his eyes and with creased brow the Elven King thought on his options and on the dream. It had been as though it had come in answer to his fears that the raven haired male may become violent if brought out from the dungeons. Saying a silent prayer to whoever may listen to him and hoping he wasn't making a grave mistake, Thranduil opened his eyes and rose from his seat.

"Place him in a guest room near my own chambers," the words seemed surreal as they left the King's lips. It almost seemed as if another being entirely was speaking for him. There was no logical reason to have a prisoner moved to a guest room. Ever. Yet that was exactly what he had just ordered. Moving softly and elegantly passed his captain the starlight haired king caught a glimpse of the shocked red haired elf. He didn't stop to look back or wait for a reply. Thranduil's footfall had been aimed solely to the dungeons. If something went wrong in the process of moving the raven haired male, he wanted to see it.

To the Elven King's interest and near surprise the raven haired prisoner had not fought. He'd attempted to exchange pleasantries with the Captain and his white haired underling who came to escort him and the walk through the woodland halls had been silent and quick. The raven haired male had taken extreme interest in studying the palace as they walked and didn't notice that they were being followed or watched. After the prisoner had been placed inside his new chambers Thranduil approached the two who'd escorted him there.

"Place two guards at the door," Thranduil instructed keeping the self doubt the was gnawing at his mind out of his face and voice, "He is not to leave this room unless I summon him." The Elven King had quickly silenced a protest or question from his Captain with a simple bit of intense eye contact. A sharp nod and a soft "Yes my lord." was the reply he got from both of them. It was late and the moon would soon be high in the sky. Thranduil decided that he would try to get some sleep and leave the questions for the morrow.


	7. Chapter 7

Glaring sunlight. This was what had awoken Himelon from his sleep in the nest of sheets and pillows he'd made. The sun was just at the proper angle to strike him right in the eyes. With a groan and a soft curse the raven haired male glanced over toward where the window had been. It was closed despite having been open when he'd gone to sleep. It took a moment for this to process and before the significance had truly dawned on Himelon he'd buried his face in the sheets once more. Inhaling deeply the raven haired male began to drift off to sleep again. It wasn't until the ever so soft footfall of someone passing near the bed had reached his ears that Himelon had put two and two together. The previously open window was now closed. Someone else was in the room. Himelon's pale blue eyes shot open and in a single movement he'd launched from the bed to the other side of the room. His eyes came to settle on a young male elfling who was barely managing to support himself on the bed frame. He blinked dumbly in shock at the raven haired male who was regarding him with as much confusion as the elfling felt from the sudden movement.

"Who are you?" Himelon questioned in as authoritarian a way as he could manage, "What were you doing?" The elfling steadied his stance and cleared his throat slightly before flashing an all too friendly smile for the situation.

"I was bringing you some clean clothes," the elfling spoke gently as he came closer revealing the bundle of silver in his arms, "Sir." The last word had been added as an afterthought. As if the elfling had caught himself speaking too casually.

"Himelon." the raven haired elf took the bundle from the elfling, "My name. And thank you." Himelon relaxed himself and offered a soft smile. The elfling smiled back and bowed softly before quickly darting out of the room. Himelon surmised that the elfling must have been some sort of servant and the "Sir." thing must be some sort of customary respect offered to all guest. He was guessing he was a guest now anyway. Prisoners didn't exactly get room service or a nice bed after all. Himelon laid out the silver fabric and began staring it down as if it would try and kill him.

"Silver," Himelon sighed, "it's been a while." Instead of dressing in complete silver as it was seemingly expected he do Himelon retrieved his black shirt from where it had been folded on the birch dresser. He slipped the silver tunic on over his black pants and loosely attached the black fabric over top of that. The silver was peeking out from his collar and the black acted more like an over-shirt now. The raven haired male regarded his reflection for a moment before weaving in a braid that tucked behind either one of his ears and then a third down the back of his head. Once he was satisfied with his hair he moved to the beautifully carved oak door. It was adorned with a scene of an elf maid picking flowers by a stream. The raven haired male pushed the door open with full intent on collecting his bow, arrows, and blade, from the armory where he knew they'd have been taken, and leaving promptly there after. Those plans had come to a screeching halt when one of the guards by the door silently grabbed his arm and shoved him back in the room. The other of the two had obviously been expecting a fight or argument seeing as how he'd turned and blocked the door entirely.

"You are to remain here until King Thranduil summons you." the guard blocking the door stated with just the ever so slight hint of annoyance in his tone. Although Himelon could not see his eyes he knew he was being glared at.

"What happened to King Oropher?" Himelon asked coolly taking a step forward so that the door could not be closed without crushing him, "Has he passed?" The raven haired male knew the answer deep down. He just hoped otherwise. The nod from the guard confirmed what he had not been hoping for. Despite being a tad ill-tempered Oropher had been generally fair and easier than his predecessor to reason with. Himelon knew nothing of this Thranduil and wasn't even sure if he was Oropher's descendent. As far as he knew Oropher hadn't had any children.

"Thranduil is his relative?" As soon as the question had left Himelon's lips the other guard tried to stifle a laugh. That guard was likely younger than the other whose glare only intensified.

"His son." The elder guard informed Himelon sharply before closing the door rather forcefully. To avoid being crushed Himelon had abruptly retreated back into the room. With a sigh he took a perch on the windowsill with his feet dangling in the breeze and awaited what would probably be a very uncomfortable meeting. The first meeting of a ruler rarely went well and if son was like father it would likely end in a misunderstanding.

Rising with the sun Thranduil wandered through his halls and out into the main courtyard of his palace. For a time he simply sat and watched the day dwelling forest creatures come to greet the morning. The sunrise stained the deep blue sky over Greenwood various shades of purple and orange while the scent was dark flowers such as jasmine and orchid gave way to lighter scents such as gardenia and roses. The brilliantly painted sky contrasted beautifully with the wide variety of green hues and tints of the vast forest that was his kingdom. When other elves started coming out of the woodwork, as it were, to go about their daily business Thranduil made his way back inside. He came passing by his "guest's" room just in time to see the door being slammed in his face. Had circumstances been different Thranduil likely would have reprimanded the guard for being rude to a guest but the raven haired stranger was technically not a guest. He was a prisoner with a lavish cell. The starlight haired elf king chuckled to himself at the idea before moving further into his halls. After the main duties of the day had been taken care of Thranduil took his usual perch for business on his throne.

"It is due time we deal with our raven haired trespasser." Thranduil stated suppressing the cringe that threatened to work across his face. It had only been a few minutes before the raven haired male was brought before him but it felt like an eternity. The starlight haired king had been dreading this encounter for quite some time now. He had no idea of how it would play out and had even less control over what his emotions may do. If it wasn't gnawing familiarity and guilt that made him feel violently ill, it was burning desire and rage that colored his thoughts, and regardless there was always the vice-like grip of terror whispering in the depths of his mind. Of course no one could ever know any of that. He was king and he was strong and unbreakable. Questioning this trespasser should be no different than any other.

When the guards who'd been sent to fetch the raven haired elf male appeared with their captive in tow all of the king's inner worries became just that. Inner. On the outside he was a calm and cool as the mountain stream and as immovable and unapproachable as the cliff-faces over which said stream would flow. With piercing icy blue eyes and impassive face he regarded the prisoner. He's braided some of his black hair and had modified the clothing he's had brought to him to fit his own tastes. Ever the fan of black fabric. The raven haired male stood out against the throne room as a yellow autumn leaf stood out against green grass. The raven haired male carried himself as if he was of high stature and yet his pale blue eyes spoke of confusion and fear. Despite the guards' attempts to get the raven haired elf to kneel he did not. Thranduil could see that there would likely be broken bones before he kneeled and with a fluid motion of his hand dismissed the guards. All was silent for a time and Thranduil watched as his guest walked over to the edge and seemed to be interested in staring down into the depths below.

"Who are you?" the King's voice was what broken the silence, "And why were you trespassing in my realm?" He rose silently and glided over to the other's location so he could see his face. The raven haired male barely suppressed the surprised flinch when the deafening silence had been broken and rather boldly made eye contact as the king grew ever nearer.

"Himelon." the raven haired male replied smoothly, "As for my purpose in Greenwood, I was simply passing through." Himelon's voice had been as cold and smooth as a sphere made of ice while his pale face was as constant as cryptic as the full moon on a cloudy October night.

"If this is true then why attack my people?" By now Thranduil was circling the other male much like a predator circles its prey. At least that's how it often came off. In all reality it was a nervous habit. Something he did while thinking much like the pacing that some other individuals had taken to. Of course if his nervous tick served to intimidate his enemies then there was no reason to reveal the true purpose of the movement. Neither with words or stance or attempt to control his compulsion.

"I have not had positive experiences with Silvan elves in the past," Himelon replied keeping his eyes ever on the starlight haired king, "I was merely trying to frighten them. If I'd wanted them gone you'd have a forest full of dead bodies." Himelon almost immediately realized how much like a threat that must have sounded and the anger that flashed in the eyes of the otherwise calm king only confirmed the thought. The anger however was suppressed in an instant as then next question rolled from Thranduil's tongue.

"You do realize I have been exceedingly kind toward you." the starlight haired king began as he started back up the steps to his throne, "Why should I not have you thrown back in the dungeons?" The question had come more from the elf King's curiosity than anything else but the glaringly obvious fear that flashed in Himelon's eyes tugged at that pit in Thranduil's stomach. That pit he wished he didn't have when it came to this strange elf male.

"What makes you think you could catch me," Himelon began with silent conviction as his gaze traveled to the abyss near where they were standing, "before I jump over the edge of this platform?" As his gaze returned to the Elven King's it was resolute. If Thranduil called the guards or tried to grab him, he'd jump.

"You would not do such a thing." Thranduil ventured as fear and anger at the soft threat crept into his expression. His assertion was nearly shattered when he saw that his statement was entirely wrong. He knew that look. It was the look of an elf that was all too ready to die to evade imprisonment.

"Shall we test that?" Himelon's fluid words stung. They stung Thranduil's heart and mind like a bee. He would not test it for he already knew how it would play out and despite having little to no knowledge of Himelon in this life the elf king felt all too deeply that he could not bear to loose him. It was an annoying sensation to say the least.

"Let me leave Greenwood," Himelon began suddenly momentarily startling Thranduil, "and I would be more than happy to weave you gems of starlight and moonlight in return." Bribery. It had always worked in the past when he was in a bind with his woodland kin. The kings of Greenwood had an affinity for starlight and the gems made from it. The skill was nearly unknown to the generation of Silvan elves currently living in the forest as well. More than once the simple mention of starlight gems had freed him. It was not to be this time however.

"I can make such gems," Thranduil stated coolly perfectly hiding his deep desire to take the offer, "your offer means nothing to me." He took his seat and stared intently at the other male. That pit that would not even let him entertain the idea of loosing the raven haired elf male was back in full force. He was curious about him. Most all elves detested the idea of wearing black. It was the color of shadow and death which were not things most elves enjoyed and those that did laid now dead on the battlefields of Mordor. Not only that but the claim to be able to make those gems. It was an ancient skill that practically no one knew and yet this random elf previously unknown to his had spoken with such confidence that he could not have been lying. Then there were the king's roiling emotions. They made him want to know everything about Himelon. Where he was from and where he was going. Why he was so eager to leave and why he always haunted his dreams and nightmares. Thranduil wanted to know who and what this raven haired male was in as much detail as possible.

"You will remain here," the King spoke after a bit of a pause during which Himelon had wandered ever closer to the platform's edge, "and in return you will be given the privilege to roam and explore under the vigilance of a guard of my choosing." Himelon glared and flinched visibly at the idea of being kept against his will even longer in Greenwood, but some roaming privilege was better than full on imprisonment.

"I thank you for you gracious hospitality," Himelon uttered with the widest smile and most overstated bow he'd ever composed, "great Elven King Thranduil." Himelon knew he was being theatrical. It was a political tactic. There were very few ways one could respectfully show their displeasure while not insulting their host. This. This skirted the boundary significantly but seeing as how a small glare an a dismissal were all he got, Himelon figured he'd take it. He was promptly escorted out by guard and left to his own devices and Thranduil was left to be annoyed with himself still trying to sort out how exactly he was going to go about learning anything about his new mysterious guest.


	8. Chapter 8

Exhausted. That was the predominant feeling in Thranduil's being as he sunk ever further into his throne. The encounter with the raven haired male had gone better than his worst fears but also went worse than he'd been hoping for. Fortunately the starlight haired king had kept most of his inner thoughts from showing but he knew he hadn't been perfect. He'd startled ever so slightly once and let fear and anger creep in on another moment. Ordinarily he would have no such problem. He would pass judgment calmly and resolutely, but here there was no judgment to pass. Only modification of Himelon's containment. He'd been a bit more confident and felt ever more empowered when the encounter had first begun. His prisoner was frightened, albeit proud, but he had been frightened. That was how it should be.

As King he held the power of life and death in his hand and only a fool should be unafraid when facing his judgment throne. And yet Thranduil hated that. Despite bolstering his ego he also found the fear in the other's eyes was like a knife to the heart. As the conversation had progressed Thranduil had felt himself loosing more and more control. At least that's how it felt to him. He was hoping beyond all hope that he had not seemed as weak as he'd felt. When Himelon had made a subtle threat to his people and had threatened to end his own life Thranduil had felt helpless. That both scared and angered the young elf king. He feared for his people and was enraged that anyone dare threaten them and he'd been afraid of loosing the one who had just threatened that which he held dear. Fortunately things seemed to have ended as they began. He was in charge of the situation and all the raven haired elf male could do was obey. So why was he so exhausted? Their encounter couldn't have lasted more that ten minutes if that even and he still felt worse than if he'd just returned from a battle.

Thranduil didn't know when he'd begun walking or how he'd managed to navigate out into the stables unaware but he had. In search of either answers or solace from his own mind he'd come here. Sighing Thranduil found his elk and wrapped his arms around the beast's neck. He'd caught the creature when he was sill only a prince-ling and it had ended up being one of his best friends throughout life so far. The elk hummed and nuzzled its master. The starlight haired male smiled softly cuddling it back before sinking to the ground to curl up next to the large creature's side. At this moment he didn't care if someone saw. He didn't care if this was something a ruler should never do or if the ground would make a mess of his silver robes. As he snuggled up to the elk and it curled protectively around him he was not King of Greenwood the Great. He was just Thranduil Oropherion. Just an elf and his pet bonding as he tried to calm the emotional storm brewing in his mind.

"Well that went well!" Himelon exclaimed somewhere between a laugh and an annoyed remark, "I suppose it could have gone worse…" The large doors had closed behind him with a thud and he found that there was a rather large guard tailing him. In truth he'd been a bit shocked when the king had rejected his offer of the gems and even more surprised when he hadn't been thrown in the depths of the palace to rot. As Thranduil had put it Himelon had attacked his people. There was no denying that the King was being exceedingly lenient. Going from prisoner to supervised guest was about the second best result he could think of.

He was supposed to stay in Greenwood so taking back his weapons and leaving would probably not be allowed but you never know until you try. And try he would. Taking a deep breath Himelon spun on his heel to face the guard and while said individual was trying to make out what would happen next Himelon's hand made contact with the other's helmet clad face. A slap. That's all it had been and that's all that was needed to confuse the guard long enough for the raven haired male to bolt. He'd faintly heard shouts and footsteps behind him but that mattered not. With all the skill of a native Himelon wove in and out of passages and dodged several servants as he made his way toward the cellars and, more importantly, the armory. With most of the guards racing about looking for him it had been easy to over-power the two who were there. A few well placed punches and some rope from a wine rack had served him well. Seeing as how these two seemed to have been into the wine recently things had gone especially smoothly. Himelon was barely able to contain the happy squeal that found its way through his lips as he spotted his bow, arrows, and blade completely unharmed.

"Now let's get out of here." the raven haired male whispered to his weapons as he swung them onto his person. It was then that the guards began to wake and struggle.

"Oh sshh!" Himelon bit out swatting at their frantically twisting heads, "You're fine! Just a bit tied up." He felt like he was reassuring children that the scrape on their leg was nothing. It was bit amusing to think of it that way and he let out a soft chuckle as he strode out into the main hall. With light feet Himelon had tried to avoid detection but unfortunately one or more of the guards were particularly vigilant and spotted him. It wasn't long before it was a full on chase through the palace and seeing as how the main entrance and exit was blocked Himelon found himself leaping out over a balcony into the forest.


	9. Chapter 9

 

The sun was beginning to set when Thranduil noticed the commotion coming from in his palace. There were angry shout and guards running in and out of the courtyard frantically. They tried not to be noticed by their king as he slowly walked out of the stables with his mount in tow but their efforts were in vain. They were angry and startled and Thranduil could only think of one culprit. As if to confirm his suspicion Thranduil turned just in time to spot as black haired figure leaping from a window that was a good five stories above the ground into the trees. Spurred on by curiosity and annoyance with his seemingly incompetent guards the elf king swung up over his elk and set off to track the raven haired male.

"Is it really that hard to keep track of one elf!?" Thranduil shouted over his shoulder at the scrabbling guards as he rode passed them nearly knocking them off their feet with his wake. It was a while before he picked up the practically nonexistent trail and the sun was nearly set. Yet he knew somehow that Himelon would travel through the night. He knew that the other feared neither injury nor death and that there would be very little that could detour him from his aim. He didn't know how he knew this. He just knew. By now there were about five horse mounted guards who had caught up with him including his red haired Captain.

"My King," said Captain began as he rode up lightly to be beside him, "Why does it matter? Is it not better that he be gone than to trouble ever more over him?" The captain's words had been pointed yet respectful. It was a good skill to learn and the question was very valid. Why was he so intent on keeping one of his kin against their will? Why did it matter if the raven haired elf left Greenwood? How could the desperate actions of one elf get to him in such a way? In truth he didn't really know.

"We cannot let a prisoner simply do as they please," Thranduil stated trying more to convince himself of it than his captain, "Word will spread of the weak will of the woodland realm if he escapes. How am I supposed to control a whole kingdom if one elf is allowed to do as he pleases against my orders?" His icy eyes had met the emerald orbs of the red haired captain but they lacked their normal edge. The Captain saw this and raised his eyebrows in question. The points the King had just made were more than valid but the starlight haired male's eyes betrayed the uncertainty in his heart. The red head didn't know why but his king was afraid. He was afraid although he hid it from most others and the king's fear stemmed from this one individual. To the Captain the fact that his king felt fear was more than enough reason to hunt down the trespasser and drag him down to the dungeons for eternity.

"We can catch him my lord," the red haired male stated softly, "You should return to the palace and take your rest." Thranduil would have been lying if he said he wasn't tempted by the offer but he would not. Himelon needed to be caught and he was going to be there when the raven haired male ran out of road.

"No." that had been the only word to escape Thranduil's lips before he spurred his elk on. There was no time or room for argument and he had no desire to leave any. If for no other reason than to ease the ache in his chest and clarify that he alone was in control of every situation Thranduil would catch Himelon and bring him back. Not to the dungeons though. He did not think he could handle to have any more violent nightmares.

Himelon had been running as fast as his elf legs could carry him. Some may have called his retreat cowardly but it was not. There was nothing cowardly about freeing oneself from captivity. He rand until the sun was far beneath the horizon and only the moon and stars lit his path. He ran on and off the elven path in attempt to lose the individuals who were most certainly pursuing him. He ran until the forest gave way to large open rolling hills covered in grass. As he broke free of the seemingly endless Greenwood Himelon let out a sigh of relief and, after putting a good mile or two between himself and the wood, flopped down in the grass to rest until morning. At least that had been the plan until the faint sound of hoof beats in the distance roused him.

The raven haired elf rose sharply and fixed his eyes on the tree-line of the forest. Confusion and annoyance gave way to terror as he made out the shape of six riders coming straight for him. Cursing and running ever harder Himelon raced along through the hills. It became very obvious very quickly that it didn't matter how hard or fast or long he ran the people following him would not give up.

"Stubborn aren't you?" Himelon growled as he turned to face the group at his heels. They were still a bit away from him but they were gaining. It was now encroaching in on the sixteenth day since he'd eaten and he'd only slept once in a fifteen day period. Himelon was tired and knew deep down that he could not realistically outrun the horses and elk on foot. His hope was to make it to the house of a skin changer before they overtook him. Skin changers weren't exactly aligned with anyone and it would make for a relatively good neutral ground on which to rest. Unfortunately that was not to be.

Just as the silhouette of the house came into view the horses and elk caught him. Barring his path forward, backward, left, and right they encircled him. There was no where to go and little that could be done. Out for reflex and sheer panic Himelon had drawn his sword and now had all but one of his pursuers aiming their bows at him. He was terrified. Terrified that they would kill him on the spot or that they would drag him back to the dungeons. But more than that he was terrified he'd have to hurt or kill that starlight haired elf before him. The mere idea tore at his very soul and Himelon was barely able to conceal the tears threatening to spill over his eyes with a blank and cold expression. If he was to die he would not let a single tear fall.

As the group overtook their quarry Thranduil found himself both amazed at how far the raven haired elf had gotten and angry that he had even attempted such a thing. It was not as if he'd been locked up to rot. He'd been given more or less free roam to explore and this is how he repays the king's kindness. With violence and insolence. The fact that Himelon had had the nerve to draw his blade when he was clearly surrounded was even more annoying. Yet it was when he had seen a single drop of liquid collect at the other's pale blue eye that Thranduil's annoyance began to melt into an unnerving worry. Did Himelon truly think that he would be killed for running? Did he really have so little faith that the King could stay the hands of his own men? Or was it distrust of his own kin or madness that drove such thoughts? Thranduil had little time to think on the matter before one of the younger of the group nearly let an arrow fly.

"Stop." the order had come strongly and sharply from the starlight haired king. The youth on whom his piercing gaze was now fixed stuttered slightly before lowing him bow. When Thranduil dismounted his elk the others of the group lowered their bows as well. Thranduil felt as though he was approaching a wounded animal from the way the raven haired elf before him recoiled and glared at him. It was all to similar to catching a frightened dog. Gently and carefully he advanced toward the other.

"I have not come to harm you," Thranduil began fluidly speaking in as gentle a tone as he could bring forth, "Only to return you to Greenwood. And you will be returning." The last statement had been more forceful and had been intended to be a command. Thranduil wanted to put any ideas of bolting again as far from Himelon's thoughts as possible.

"Why?" The raven haired male's question had been more of a demand, "Why are you so set on keeping me? I am nothing but another face to you." Himelon was hardly holding himself back. His voice hitched and his face flushed in anger. He was being violently pulled from sorrow and anger and fear and suffocating hopelessness. It was irrational and made no sense. He'd been through thousands of battles and situations that could have claimed his life and never felt this way. He'd been capture and tortured by orcs more than once and had faced down the armies of Mordor with his kin. And yet nothing could compare to the things he felt now. It was as if every emotion assaulted him at once and his breath and vision were fading. The world spun and the King spoke something as he fell. It fell on deaf ears and as his mind followed the silver clad king's movement to crouch beside him the world went black.


	10. Chapter 10

As the raven haired male fell into unconsciousness Thranduil gently reached out to shake him. He had encountered, once or twice, individuals who would feign unconsciousness only to attack ore escape later and based on Himelon's actions as of late the elven King wouldn't exactly put such a thing passed him. Himelon was however indeed unconscious. His skin was as cold as death and his breath and pulse were barely detectable. Had the situation been different Thranduil may have mistaken the other for a dead body. Yet he had found the pulse and breath that indicated life.

A swell of relief washed over the starlight haired king as he scooped up the limp elf and situated him on his elk. The ride back to Greenwood had been silent and slow. No one was in a particular rush seeing as how they'd pushed their mounts so hard to catch Himelon. As long as Thranduil did not show urgency his guards would not. As the group entered the trees the light of the moon was waning ever so slightly and Thranduil took the opportunity to look into the mind of his peculiar captive. All elves had abilities that the other races called magic. Some healed particularly well of were given the gift of foresight while others had elemental attributes or could manipulate the living creatures of Middle Earth. He had been gifted with a kind of telepathy. And so with a deep breath and a soft touch to Himelon's icy forehead the elven King gently let his mind slip into that of the raven haired male.

Darkness. That was all at first. Then there were words. Words whispered in the forbidden tongue of Mordor. They spoke of decay and rot. They grew louder and louder and the darkness flowed and seeped into every inch of Thranduil's consciousness. It's hold tighten mercilessly until the elven king felt as though he would fade into it entirely. No matter how he twisted or reached for the path that had led him here it was nowhere to be found. The black speech laughed a murmured promises of the destruction of his kingdom. It seemed like an eternity he had been forced to choke and listen when it all began to fade. He felt more and more like himself until the dank seep of the black speech had been entirely exercised. When his vision returned to him there was before the hands of Thranduil a door illuminated by such a fragile blue light that he thought it may shatter at any moment against the abyss. The door was silver and encrusted in frost and surrounding it was a form of elvish long since forgotten to time. It was the language spoken only in Valinor that none were thought to even be able to recall in Middle Earth. Yet it's meaning imparted fully to Thranduil as his gaze traveled over the elegantly inscribed runes. It was an ancient ward against the dark mass through which he had just passed yet there seemed to be no way in. Few if any elves practiced shielding their minds any more. It was not necessary in recent years so it was only logical to assume that this blockade had been erected before the recent years had come to pass. 

Thranduil ran his hands over the door pushing and pulling softly trying to find a way in where there was none. It quickly became evident that he would proceed no further without permission. Permission that he would likely never receive. Even so he had learned much. He had learned that something foul slept here and that it sought to consume the mind of the raven haired elf male. This worried him greatly. Perhaps it was this foul shade that had led to his violent nightmares. Perhaps his visions of Himelon being killed in various horrific ways and the world falling to ruin at the feet or pale skin and black hair were not simply dreams but his mind sensing that which slept in Himelon's mind. As Thranduil's ice blue eyes stared out into the abyss before him he felt gripped with fear and sorrow. Fear because he would have to try and traverse that abyss to return to his body and sorrow because he had no way of currently knowing if Himelon was willing ferrying the darkness into the world or if it was simply being contained here so it could not corrupt Himelon's heart. With a sigh and a soft prayer Thranduil took one step forward, then another and another until he was on the very edge of the blue light's reach. He glanced one more time back at the door and strode out into the darkness as he walked the light followed him on the way out and soon enough he saw the path through the darkness before him and did not hesitate to take the quickest rout out.


	11. Chapter 11

Soft. As Himelon's mind came back to him the first thing that he was aware of was something soft wrapped around him. There was the gentle caress of a warm, silky softness that enveloped him and moved gently with every breath he took and every twinge of his muscles. Then there came the scent of wild flowers and lavender salts. The aromas of olive oil and rosemary combined to further sedate him. He heard nothing despite having the sensation that there was much movement around him. Himelon let out a soft sigh as he rolled over and nestled himself further into the aromatic, soft fabric about him. Then there was speech. Someone was saying something though it sounded more like a muffled whisper to him than the demand he knew it to be from the vibrating air that brushed against his exposed ear. There was a pause and then a gentle but firm grasp on his shoulder. Slender fingers and soft hands rolled him back over onto his back and held him in place while their owner once again tried speaking to him.

"Ada…" the raven haired elf groaned softly swatting at the hands holding him still, "please….let me sleep…." Himelon's words were sleep slurred and his mind was foggy and seemed to tell him he was in the Undying Lands. That he was back in his bed and it was his father that was trying to rouse him from sleep. When the grip tightened and the senseless voice persisted Himelon let his pale blue eyes crack open. The soft blue and silver room made of gems he'd been expecting to see and the white haired elder male with lavender eyes he'd anticipated were not, however, the sights that met his gaze. He was back in Greenwood. He was laying in a woven pine bed in a room lit by the soft glow of starlight lanterns. There were elves of all different appearance bustling around the room gathering vials and herbs almost frantically. The owner of the gentle but firm hands that held him still was a male elf with starlight hair and ice blue wearing silver robes and an all too familiar wood, leaf, and berry crown. It took a moment for the raven haired elf's mind to catch up with his eyes and realize that the individual holding him still and speaking to him was Thranduil and he did not look pleased with his brow furrowed and his frozen stare fixed upon Himelon. As the grogginess faded, all too slowly, Himelon tried to sit. He didn't feel the fear he remembered before unconsciousness had taken him. It seemed that those feelings were so far away now. As if they were a whole lifetime passed. As he tried to sit Thranduil frowned and pushed him back down.

"Don't move," the first words that Himelon understood since waking had fallen on his ears as bits of snow on the warm summer land. Harsh, cold, and somehow comforting.

"You've been watching over me?" Himelon smiled softly as the question passed his lips. It seemed that way at the moment didn't it? As if the King had been watching over him while he slept. That truly was nonsense and he knew it though. The Great Elven King could not have time to simply watch someone sleep.

"I have been attempting," Thranduil began fluidly as he reached for a glowing vial of starlight that sat near the bed, "to heal you're infection." Thranduil's voice flowed over the barely conscious Himelon like a cool spring over stones. Soothing and unaffecting. The raven haired elf male's eyes clouded over as he tried to understand what Thranduil could be meaning. He was not ill and was fairly certain he had not been injured as he fled Greenwood.

"I have no infection," Himelon's tone was flat and his face scrunched together ever so slightly as he stared at the item in the hand outstretched to him. The vial of starlight that was being offered him was even more puzzling. That was only used in purifications or festivals. It was not something given out lightly. The raven haired elf stared at the glowing vial for a moment before his face relaxed and his gaze traveled around the room. It was deeper into the palace than the room he'd stayed in before yet not as far down as the dungeons. It was comfortably furnished and yet could not have been any guest room.

"You are in the healer's wing," Thranduil spoke with all the gently charisma of a soft spring breeze and yet contained within the statement was a slight wavering. Almost as if he was unsure of what to make of the other's traveling gaze.

"The infection," the king continued with a soft sigh as he uncorked the vial and lifted it to Himelon's lips, "is a seeping shadow in you mind that I fear spreads through you as we speak. Drink." A shadow? In an instant of clarity in his mind Himelon put all the pieces together. Thranduil must have tried to see into his mind and found it. He must have mistaken it for something else. The reason his mind was so slow and he felt so groggy and detached was from the starlight they must have been giving him while he slept. When the realization dawned on him the raven haired elf male sat up sharply regardless of whether he was instructed to do so or not. Thranduil had barely managed to get the vial out of theway.

"I'm not drinking anymore starlight," Himelon said with a sharp resolve that momentarily caused Thranduil to startle and his eyes to widen at the piercing and pained gaze fix upon him, "It is not an infection. It is a scar." The statement caused Thranduil's brow to furrow again. He rose in a swift movement and began walking around the room plucking herbs, wards, and ultimately a glass of wine from his surroundings before returning stand directly in front of the bed on which Himelon lay. He regarded the raven haired male with all the scrutiny he would give a dwarf or orc. His eyes were as cold and unfeeling as the dead of winter. Unbeknownst to those around him the elven King yet again found himself at war with his thoughts and emotions. He wanted to believe that was why the purification treatments hadn't been working but how could something that had seemed so alive be a scar? It had spoken to him. Known his name and the things that he feared most. He had felt it seep into his consciousness and threaten to extinguish the very light of his soul. Something like that was not a scar. It was a living infection. He found himself torn between the ache clenching at his heart over Himelon yet again and the thrumming drive and desire to protect his people.

"It. ." narrowing his eyes Thranduil leaned forward so that his face was mere inches away from Himelon's. His statement had been punctuated and he had managed to convey all of his authority as King into it. He would not risk the lives of his people over some elf he knew in another life.

"It found it's way in there," Himelon refuted pouring every once of his own authority into his words as he could, "100 years before the battle on the slopes of Mount Doom. It can only be contained. It will never leave and has no power over me." It was true. Sauron had attempted to possess and use Himelon's body after he helped forge the rings of power for the Deceiver. Himelon was well aware it was the second time Sauron had tried such a thing, but it was so long ago in life long forgotten that he hadn't seen it until it was too late. The raven haired elf had managed to break Sauron's hold but had not escaped unscathed. A tiny bit of Sauron's malice and essence was left in his mind to haunt his nightmares. The mental wall he'd built in Valinor served to keep it from ever taking hold in his body or mind. Anything short of Sauron returning could ever give it enough strength to do anything other than torment him in his sleep. Himelon's pale blue eyes were fixed upon Thranduil's icy orbs. For a second, just a second, the intimidating aura emanating from the King wavered and Himelon knew his point had been made. Thranduil had been listening with the outer reaches of his mind for he had noticed that he could not even sense the darkness that way but could discern conscious thoughts. He'd inadvertently heard the other's thoughts and had glimpsed the memory of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond trying to heal Himelon, in much the same way Thranduil had been trying, shortly after the tragic war. He saw the two most powerful elven healers fail.

Sighing softly and closing his eyes Thranduil straightened and placed the cork back in the vial of starlight and returned the herbs and wards to where they belonged. Before he turned back to face the empty and yet pleading eyes of the raven haired male Thranduil took a long drink of the wine to settle his nerves. If such emotional war and strain continued to eat at his mind like this he'd certainly go mad. The sweet, heavy, and strong alcohol served as a focal point for his thoughts. It helped him put aside the excess of his thoughts so that he could focus on the task at hand. The internal debates would have to wait until later.

"Are you certain it cannot seep out?" Thranduil's eyes were still closed and his back was turned. He wasn't ready quite yet to look at Himelon again. He was frustrated that he hadn't sensed the shadow earlier and relieved that there seemed to be evidence that it was at very least well contained.

"I am certain." Himelon quirked his head softly to the side as he regarded Thranduil. The other elves in the room had long since left and Himelon was trying to figure out what could possibly be going through Thranduil's mind. Was he going to let him finally leave Greenwood? Were there dungeons in his foreseeable future? Was he to be a "guest" yet again? Himelon just didn't know. He didn't know what cues to be looking for or even if there were any cues. Nervousness and fear began gently clawing at his gut and he began to fidget with the sheets. He tried rationalizing everything to himself. Reassuring himself that the Elven King was not likely to resort to anything overtly violent seemed to help stave off the increasingly distasteful scenarios that threatened to play in his imagination.

"Then let us try this again," Thranduil finally spoke taking another deep drink of the wine was he turned and infinitely more gently gaze in Himelon's direction, "You are to stay in Greenwood. You will return to the room you were previously given. You will be heavily guarded and if you disobey me again or I find that you have lied to me about it your punishment will be severe. Am I clear?" The starlight haired king's gaze hardened as he inquired about the clarity of his words. Yet again he was mere inches away from the other male and this time, having a clearer mind, Himelon felt a flutter in his gut. He suddenly felt embarrassed and couldn't help the blush that tinted his cheeks.

"Y-yes my king," the raven haired male had stuttered as he looked away. Himelon found that his heart was going a mile a minute and that he suddenly felt humbled and inexplicably safe with Thranduil that close. He didn't feel caged or angry or intimidated anymore. He felt irrationally safe and at home.

"Good." Thranduil replied a little more gently as he quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head to one side slightly. Himelon had suddenly gone from behaving proudly as if he were the king's equal to humble and flustered. It was rather amusing and Thranduil found the blush on the raven haired males face rather enjoyable to see. Why he couldn't quite place his finger on though. If Himelon behaved himself and obeyed him this time there would be the perfect opportunity to learn more about his raven haired guest. Adding a few more guards to escort Himelon around wouldn't hurt on enforcing his point however. Thinking on these things and the preparations that would be necessary to be made for the next council meeting Thranduil floated out the large doors to the healer's chambers and left Himelon to be tended to by the others. Ultimately someone would be sent to fetch Himelon and escort him back to the room in which he was to stay.

Himelon watched the silver clad elf King retreat from the chambers and it wasn't until he had left and the other healers started to flood back in that Himelon let out a sigh and flopped back into the bed. He was still here and Greenwood seemed to be the place he would have to stay for a while. Despite his irrational and panic driven behavior King Thranduil had found it in himself to graciously grant him the general privileges of a guest. The more Himelon thought on the possible reasons for Thranduil doing so the less he liked his conclusions. If it wasn't silly fantasies about being fancied by Thranduil it was terrifying ideas of being kept for sport to be hunted down and killed later. Truly the later was naught but his own paranoia due to the large numbers of people about Greenwood. Shaking his head Himelon put his odd ideas out of his mind and tried, unsuccessfully, to strike up conversation with a few of the healers. Ah well. Things could be infinitely worse couldn't they? Giving up on the conversation endeavor Himelon let himself slip into a light restful sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

It had been nearly a month since Himelon had been instructed to stay in Greenwood and the seasons were slowly changing. The soft scents of spring were becoming the more potent and intoxicating aromas of summer flowers. The gentle green of the forest was also finding itself bathed in more and more gold and orange light as the clouds from spring retreated from the sky. The temperature had gone up slightly an while most everyone enjoyed the sunlight and warmth Himelon would have been lying if he said he felt the same. It wasn't that he disliked summer, it was that he found it simply to hot and bright of a season. In the duration of his stay Himelon had found that the extra guards that Thranduil had appointed to keep an eye on him weren't that bad. He'd thought they'd be over restrictive but in reality they mostly let him go where he pleased. Certainly they didn't hesitate to tell him when he'd over stepped his privileges, but they weren't exactly rude about it. His perception of Greenwood had been changing as he learned his captors weren't, for the most part, any more excited about him being there than he was. Although he had been enjoying his stay more than anticipated.

Himelon's days in Greenwood had started out awkward and slightly forced. For at least a week he didn't dare venture outside of his given room. There were simply too many people and he was terrified. When King Thranduil had caught word that his "guest" was cooped up in his room, and hadn't set foot outside for nearly a month, he'd gone out of his way to remedy the situation. If a guest was unhappy, for whatever reason, someone outside of Greenwood, or inside of, would hear about it and his hospitality and authority might come into question. Such perceived weakness or rudeness could destroy a kingdom and humans had proven that time and time again. Thranduil rationalized to himself that he was going to see Himelon simply to prevent rumors but in truth a part of him had been feeling rather sad in the passed weeks without see the raven haired elf male. So with a strong and confident stride the King of the woodland realm set himself to travel through his palace to the room where Himelon was staying.

The room of wood had been as Himelon had been keeping it. Dark and cold. He was thankful that he'd been gifted with the reign over ice and shadow. Some of the elves back in Valinor, and even a few in the elf kingdoms of Middle Earth, had thought him cursed for a time. Thankfully the majority had the sense to see the gifts for what they were. Nothing but a variation of the elemental abilities some other elves possessed. And so Himelon was putting them to good use here in Greenwood The Great. If he was to stay in this endless forest he would at least be comfortable. He'd blotted out the daylight until there was no sun left shining in the room and then proceeded to ice over most of the place to keep it cool. 62 degrees and below was favorable. The ice itself gave off a soft blue glow from the "magic" that created it. The only light in the room was the gentle comforting glow.

Himelon had taken rest in the bundle of sheets and it actually had been about two days since he'd even moved from the bed. Overall a month had passed and in that time Himelon would wander around the room, speak to the trees and curious creature who came to visit, and occasionally spy on a certain Elven King while he slept. One day the rave haired elf thought, for a moment, that he might actually leave and explore the palace but the thought was quickly crushed by his own phobia of his more feral kin. That is until there came a soft yet strong knock at the door. Without a word the large oak threshold was pushed slowly open bathing the dark and blue room in golden light. In response Himelon curled himself further under the covers to shield his eyes a let out a soft hiss. Yes he was acting like an elfling. No he didn't particularly care at the given moment. All was silent for a moment until there was a soft sag on the bed and a sharp tug of the sheets that ultimately uncovered the raven haired elf hiding there.

"You could at least pretend to take interest in my kingdom." Thranduil had spoken fluidly yet gently while holding back a soft sigh. In truth the Elven King didn't know why the idea of Himelon being cooped up in the room bothered him enough to see about solving it himself. It just did.

"Are you displeased with your treatment here?" The starlight haired male had continued as if he had not expected a reply. He cared about the well being of his guests whether they were staying voluntarily or not. If Himelon was somehow being mistreated he'd take care of it as he would if any other guest had stated a complaint.

"Aside from not being permitted to leave," Himelon sighed sitting up an scooting away from Thranduil all the while averting his gaze to hide the red tint spreading over his face, "No. You have been shockingly hospitable given the Silvan elves and my prior behavior. I just find the number of people here to be uncomfortable. I'm not used to groups larger than two or three." It was the truth and what really could hurt in admitting it? It's not like he was insulting the King by being socially inexperienced. As Thranduil let the information sink it he observed the raven haired elf shifting nervously along with the soft pink tint marking the pale skin of the other male. Most people would have simply let Himelon be given that information but Thranduil just couldn't. Not only did he want his guest to be, semi, comfortable but it bothered him to no end that it was this particular individual who was uncomfortable.

"Would you feel more comfortable," Thranduil's words were slow as if he was still putting them together as he turned a striking blue eye to look Himelon in the eyes, "with your bow and blade?" The wandering gaze of the raven haired male suddenly snapped to meet the King's. Had he heard that right? Apparently so.

"Infinitely." the word had left Himelon's lips significantly stronger than initially intended, but it made its point. Thranduil's eyes had widened ever so slightly before his soft passive expression returned to further comfort and confuse Himelon. There it was again. The boldness that the raven haired elf had expressed earlier when they'd first met. Not to mention the flutter in his own stomach. As much as he disliked the authority Himelon was seemingly asserting, Thranduil couldn't help that he kind of found it enjoyable. Most everyone was ever so careful to only say that which they thought wouldn't upset him. The fact that his Captain of the guard had less of that reflex was one reason why he listened to him more than some others. It was also that trait that Thranduil found himself pondering. None the less he nodded and placed a soft pat on the other male's back before rising and moving toward the door.

"Perhaps after your bow and blade are returned to you," Thranduil glanced over his back at the elf whose pale blue orbs were transfixed on him, "you might accompany me on patrol through the forest." Himelon blinked momentarily surprised by the offer for two reasons. The first being that he'd only just arrived and was not exactly a full guest seeing as how he was so heavily guarded and watched. The second being that he thought a King would not go on patrols. That's what the guards were for wasn't it? When Himelon gave no reply and Thranduil remained where he stood the raven haired elf felt a slight amount of heat return with full force to his cheeks and cleared his throat.

"Sure," Himelon spoke with a nod looking anywhere but the starlight haired King, "I'm not familiar with Greenwood in the way you are but I'll try to be of assistance." Himelon had decided to take that tack. If he treated it like nothing more than an order or request from the King perhaps he wouldn't feel so flustered by it. Unfortunately that didn't seem to work. The Elven King seemed to have been satisfied by the response and had left. Promptly after Himelon had found his weapons resting just inside the door.

After that little bit of coaxing Himelon had found himself wandering around the palace. For most of the time Himelon had spent in Greenwood he'd taken to either wandering the forest, exploring the palace, playing with the elflings, or practicing with his bow and blade. Things were more enjoyable than he'd initially expected.


	13. Chapter 13

Summer was slowly becoming Autumn in Greenwood. The leaves, unlike the rest of the world's trees, remained a resilient, vibrant green even as the soft nip of winter spread across the land. The air filled with the overpowering scent of gardenia and plumeria blossoms and the soft ground grew ever more firm as the frost began to creep across the uncovered forest floor. The colors of the many gardens, inside and outside, of the palace were becoming less of summer and more of fall. Where citrus fruits and watermelons had grown now were pumpkins and blueberries. The brilliant and colorful flowers gave way to rich orange and gold with hints of blues. The sunlight itself seemed to take on more of a muted golden-brown that it previously had displayed.

Throughout his time in Greenwood Himelon had taken to amusing himself with elflings, walks in the woods, and keeping up on his skills with bow and blade. On this particular Autumn afternoon the raven hair elf was showing a few of the more introverted elflings how to shoot a bow and arrow. Twilight was nearing and the elflings had been at it since sunrise. More than once Himelon had asked them if they wanted to call it a day but they never did. One little boy was having the worst luck of all. He had golden-brown hair and scarlet eyes with a darker skin tone than most other elves. He wore a pair of green pants and a silver tunic with black ankle boots. He was tall for his age and just couldn't seem to shoot the arrow right. First he'd shot himself in the foot. Then the bow string kept snapping on his ear and cheek. Then his fingers kept getting nicked by the sharp arrowhead and the arrow would never fly straight. Finally half the times he'd pull out an arrow it would fall out of his hand and, in attempt to retrieve it, he'd end up spilling the rest of the arrows all over the forest floor. The other elflings had laughed and pointed. Making fun of him for his skin, eyes, hair, skill, and whatever else they could find. Himelon had expected the red eyed elfling to leave at the first given opportunity but he hadn't. Even when all of the other children were gone, he continued to try.

"Why don't you go home," Himelon offered softly laying a hand softly on the elfling's shoulder, "You've shown more dedication than the others and you must be tired." A small smile graced Himelon's lips as he gently lowered the bow in the child's hands. The red eyed elfling let out an exasperated sigh and plopped down on the ground while fiddling with the feathers on the arrow he was planning to shoot.

"I need to get this," the red eyed child groaned placing his head in his hands, "If I've ever going to get them to stop teasing me I have to get this!" The tears threatening to spring from the small child's eyes and the way he grit his teeth in frustration were the only things to betray the depths of emotion the elfling felt. Himelon gave a soft sigh and hauled the red eyed child back up onto his feet.

"Hold it like this," the raven haired elf began taking a grasp of the elfling's hands and arms to move the bow into position, "Keep your arms straight but relaxed and pull the string back with your arrow." The child took a shaky breath and did as instructed with Himelon there holding onto his to guide his movements.

"Feel how the string tenses and the wood bends?" Himelon whispered gently and the elfling nodded, "Then point the arrow and the center of the target with both eyes open and let it fly." As the elfling took aim The raven haired male released him and took a few steps back. As certain as the sun rises the red eyed elfling's arrow flew straight into the bull's-eye of the target.

"I did it," the red eyed youth more gasped than said as he turned to look at his instructor, "I did it! Did you see that?" As the reality sunk in for the young elf he became ever more excited and fired off a few more to make certain he knew how to do it. Ultimately the red eyed elfling latched onto Himelon's leg and was jumping around like most children do when they're excited. Himelon let and small smile cross his face and a gentle laugh broke from his lips while watching the child. The raven haired elf could practically feel the glare of the two guards who were most certainly still keeping an eye on him. More than once a Silvan elf or two had expressed their dislike of him being around the elflings. Yet no one seemed to care to stop him if he was only dealing with the misfits.

"Hey," Himelon announced as he grabbed onto the red eyed elfling's arm to stop his excited parade, "How about we go get something sweet from the kitchen as a reward?" Shortly after a gasp and a look of uncertainty the elfling gave a sharp nod and they were off through the winding path of the palace of Greenwood The Great.

Baking pies. It was a hobby Thranduil had taken up back in his younger days as Prince of Greenwood. It was a good stress reliever and seemed to help him focus on what needed to be done while he worked. His hobby was, unfortunately, looked down upon by most. Cooking and baking were tasks for servants and women not Princes and Kings. At least that was the common opinion so naturally he only entertained his pie making in secret. He would occasionally sneak down to the kitchens near nightfall when most everyone was busy doing something else. Since the kitchen was always stocked with the freshest ingredients there was never any trouble being able to make a pie perfect for any season or worry he may have. The flavor of the day this time was blueberry and the problem he was working out was the matter of going North.

There had been a council meeting and this time it was decided who would go north to face the orcs that were terrorizing the elfish trading posts. It was also decided when. On the side of the who it was to be him and his most skilled warriors. They were the closest and were thereby selected to go. Of course it hadn't been entirely against his will. Thranduil understood the reasoning behind it and was unable to find a reason to disagree. If the information they had been given was correct there wouldn't be too much trouble. Just a few orc packs that needed to be put back in their place. It had been initially reported that there were dragons but apparently those scaled furnaces had passed to different prey upon realizing there was no treasure to be found in the trading towns. And yet Thranduil felt so uneasy about this. It wasn't his first time going to war and the battle for Middle Earth had been plenty trying. But something just didn't feel right. The starlight haired King couldn't put his finger on it but something was not as it seemed. He was worried there was something more to this trading post battle and he was anxious about leaving Greenwood and Himelon.

No matter how many pies he baked or how long he sought solace in his forest Thranduil simply could not put the raven haired elf from his mind. The time that they were to leave and go North was only two weeks away as well. Thranduil had ordered for preparations to be made the moment he knew but the closeness of leaving was unnerving. From Greenwood it would take three days to reach the trading towns if they didn't stop and rest. It would take five if they did stop to rest. Thranduil had yet to decide if they should stop along the way. Their kin needed aid as quickly as possible and going without rest would be no problem if they truly were dealing with only orcs. However if there was something else to this then resting would be wise so that everyone would be able to perform their best.

With a sigh and a hand full of flour the Elven King set himself to beginning to make the first of three blueberry pies. With elegant movements and light footsteps Thranduil made quick work of the first pie and set it to baking. As the first finished the second was ready to go in and as that finished the third began baking. Letting out a long sigh as he finished the third pie Thranduil plopped down on a seat and cut into the first of the pies seeing as how it was cool enough to eat and the others were still too hot from the oven. Just as he was finishing the slice he'd been eating on the starlight haired elf king's ears picked up on the sound of footsteps heading for the kitchen.


	14. Chapter 14

Whipping his head in the direction of the door and rising, all too quickly and frantically for someone of his status, Thranduil moved as swiftly as he could into the shadows surrounding the interior of the kitchen. Ordinarily he would have lied about his reason for being there with the pie if caught but seeing as how he was covered in flour there would be no believable lie ho could tell. And so the Elven King found himself hiding behind a few sacks of flour in his own kitchen. Had anyone seen him they would have surely thought it comical. The Great Elven King Thranduil huddled behind a pile of flour sacks like a child hiding from their parents after doing something bad. There was little time to think on it or adjust his position, however, as the large red wood doors to the kitchen were pushed open. Over the threshold came Himelon with a red eyed elfling in tow. The elfling was chattering about his favorite types of lizards and Himelon was occasionally interjecting with statements announcing his fascination with spiders and snakes.

"Alright then," Himelon cut off the bouncing chattering elfling with a clap of his hands as he strode bolding into the unfamiliar kitchen, "Something sweet...Pie?" The raven haired elf quirked an eyebrow and titled his head ever so slightly to the side as his eyes set on the freshly baked pies sitting on the counter. It was as if someone knew exactly why they had come down there. Of course that was nonsense but there did seem to be pie that had magically appeared there seeing as how no one seemed to be in the vicinity.

"I like pie." the red eyed elfling practically purred as he spotted the sweet treat practically begging for him to come and eat it, "Let's eat the pie!" The small child made a run for the pie only to be caught and restrained by the raven haired elf who's gaze had suddenly glazed over.

"How do we know it's not a poison treat meant for the King?" Himelon's gaze was distant and almost seemed nostalgic. Most elves wouldn't think of such a thing. Cowardly assassinations involving poison were ordinarily the deeds of humans and dwarves. Yet it was not entirely unheard of and the mysterious pie would be a prime candidate for it. Everyone liked pie so what better food to poison or drug.

"No one does that stuff in Greenwood!" the now squirming red eyed elfling protested with a slight whine, "Please can we eat it?" The youth tried his best to make a cute "puppy" face at the male restraining him. He wanted that pie and didn't particularly care if it was somehow drugged. As far as the child's logic went the pie was there when they were going to get some kind of treat anyway so why not eat it?

"I will try some first…" Himelon trailed off as he set the child back down on solid ground, "…to make sure its safe." As the red eyed elfling pouted slightly and Himelon reached for the fork to try the pie, Thranduil was trying his best not to jump out of his hiding place and reprimand Himelon for thinking the pie was poison and tell both of them to leave his treat alone. He'd baked it to help relieve his stress and make him feel better. Not to feed any random elf who happened to walk in. Despite feeling more than a little put out Thranduil also couldn't help the intrigue that was sneaking into his mind. What would Himelon do once the pies were deemed safe?

"Well?" the red eyed youth huffed tapping his foot lightly, "Poison? Drugged?" The impatient tapping of the elfling's foot only added to the tense air in the kitchen.

"Blueberry." was the only reply to come from the raven haired food checking elf. A delighted squeal escaped the elfling's lips as he hopped up on a stool to take a piece of the pie. The youth really did love blueberry pie. He went and had three full slices before stopping with a cooed sigh and a yawn. As the elfling reclined on the seat he'd hopped up in Himelon began scanning the room for the would be baker. As the elfling cooed about how much he'd enjoyed the pie Himelon had gotten a whiff of a scent that didn't belong. It was the scent of juniper and gardenia with a hint of eucalyptus and mint. It was a scent that was distinct to expensive body wash and Himelon was fairly certain he'd smelled it before on a certain starlight haired King.

"You should be getting on home now…" the raven haired elf began as he rose slowly and followed the scent to the far left of the room, "Your parents must be wondering where you could be at this hour." The red eyed elfling gave a small nod and a "Yes sir." before scampering off. Himelon waited until he heard the dull thud of the door before he advanced to the corner of the room where the scent was the strongest. It was faint to begin with and in the highly perfumed halls of Greenwood Himelon had barely even noticed it. What had made him notice it was the memory it evoked. The way the starlight haired male had glided across the floor of the throne room only to get within inches of him. Invading Himelon's personal space yet again in the healing chambers had engrained the scent into his mind. No matter how much Himelon's logic told him he was hallucinating and becoming obsessed with the King the scent of the body wash was strongest in the far left corner of the room. Right behind a pile of flour sacks. Now why would anyone be hiding behind flour sacks?


	15. Chapter 15

As the raven haired elf male's hand gripped the edge of the flour sacks Thranduil felt his heart going a mile a minute. He was going to be found and it was by the one person in all of Middle Earth he would want least to find him. Taking in a deep breath Thranduil rose quickly from his hiding place and pushed passed Himelon with all the authority and grace of any King. He tried his best to behave as if he had been doing nothing out of the ordinary.

"Why are you here without the guards I assigned you?" before Himelon could even speak Thranduil had smoothly and coolly bit out the question. He kept his back to the other and did not even glace over his shoulder to make eye contact with Himelon as Thranduil stopped his stride only a few inches from the door. He was trying to hide his flour covered front and also was allotting himself and quick escape route should something go amiss.

"Why are you hiding behind a pile of flour sacks?" Himelon's questioned had come with a tilt of his head and flowed as gently and coolly as the mountain wind in the early days of winter. Had Thranduil looked behind him he would have seen and small smile playing across the rave haired male's face. Thranduil had been fast in escaping his hiding place but Himelon had still seen the flour on the front of the King. He had known with that split second of an image that Thranduil must have been the mystery baker. Knowing this a part of Himelon felt bad for assuming the pie to be poisoned. Not all of him. Just a part in the increasingly more active emotional side of his mind.

"You have not answered my question." It was then that Thranduil looked over his shoulder and his icy blue eyes met Himelon's pale blue ones. His tone had been as cold and narrow as a frozen stream cutting through a glacier. Himelon couldn't help but chuckle softly. Of course he hadn't and he couldn't help but think it slightly cute the way the corners of Thranduil's brow arched downward ever so slightly as he, not entirely perfectly, masked the embarrassment that was without a shadow of a doubt thrumming through him at this very moment.

"I have no clue where they are," Himelon replied with a soft sigh as he took a seat on the flour sacks and crossed one leg over the other while crossing his arms over his chest, "I am certain that they are not far behind me though." Thranduil nodded and tried to take the opportunity as the chance to leave. As his hand pushed on the door ever so slightly he was cut off.

"You made those pies didn't you?" it was more of a statement than a question that slipped from Himelon's lips. As Thranduil processed the slightly amused tone he knew that the other male knew his secret. Letting out a low groan the Elven King turned and slunk down into the nearest seat with his head in his hands. His cheeks were beet red and the one elf he couldn't get out of his head knew about his little hobby. No doubt the whole of Greenwood would know about it by morning if he did nothing about it.

"Don't tell anyone." Thranduil's words were meant to be an order but came out as more of a weak plea. The Elven King's mind was running a mile a minute and his emotions were not helping. His mind raced between all of the things he could do with the remaining pie to how he would deal with the teasing and subtle reprimands and gossip that widespread knowledge of his hobby would surely spark.

"Why would I?" Himelon chuckled softly as he glided over to sit by the starlight haired king, "It's not any of my business that you like to bake delicious pies." In that moment Himelon had the urge to wrap his arms around Thranduil and pull him to his chest while gently running his fingers through his soft, silky, blonde hair. Of course such as thing was inappropriate in the given situation. They were a far cry from being lovers which is what such behavior would be reserved for. Instead Himelon gently laid a hand on the Elven King's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. As Thranduil's, now softened, blue eyes met Himelon's again the raven haired elf offered his King a small smile of reassurance. The red tint on Thranduil's cheeks excited a soft blush in Himelon's own face as he released the other male's shoulder.

"You think they were delicious?" Thranduil's question was accented with something between a chuckle and a whimper. Himelon however let out a soft yet heart-felt laugh at the question. The raven haired elf poked softly at the pies before answering. It had been a long while since he'd laughed like that. Although the sound was soft the meaning of it ran deeper than anyone could imagine. The last time Himelon could remember laughing like that was when Lord Elrond, when he was only and elfling, had made Himelon play "orcs and elves" with him.

"Yes." Himelon cooed gently standing up in a single movement, "I don't like pie too much but I had two pieces of yours." A bit the Thranduil's pride swelled at the statement. It wasn't just that someone had like his pie, it was that Himelon had liked his pie. He truly enjoyed the thought of that. Noting that the other male was leaving the Elven King reached out swiftly and gently to catch Himelon by the hand.

"In two weeks I will be leaving with some of my men," Thranduil stated slowly and pointedly as his gaze demanded Himelon's full attention and the warmth of his slender hand kept the raven haired elf transfixed in place, "To go to war with the orcs in the far North. It shouldn't be too big of a deal and should be over quickly but I feel uneasy about it." Himelon looked and listened. The touch was wonderful and distracting while the reason for Thranduil telling him this continued to escape Himelon.

"I wish you all the speed and luck you need," Himelon began carefully leading and tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, "But why do you tell me this?" Many thoughts ran through the raven haired elf's head. He could be letting him go because of this. He could also be restricting him even more in his absence.

"I would like you to accompany me into battle." Thranduil's words had seemed surreal to both of them. Much like when he had stated that Himelon was to be their guest Thranduil felt as if someone else entirely willed his words to flow. Yet he trusted his request. It made him feel more secure and less worried about the situation. The idea of Himelon accompanying him into battle was comforting and made him feel relieved. Despite the little overall contact that they had had Thranduil liked to think of Himelon as a friend. The raven haired elf had accompanied him on patrols and, despite his Captain of the guard's objections, Thranduil would occasionally take Himelon with him when he went hunting. Those had been the best memories he'd had regarding the older elf's time in Greenwood. The walks and fellowship they'd shared no matter how brief those moments may have been.

"Of course my King," Himelon replied with a soft smile as he gripped the starlight haired King's hand a bit tighter. It had taken him a moment to get over the initial shock of the request. Himelon had liked to think them friends after the contact they'd had as of late but he was unsure whether Thranduil would even entertain such a thing. Yet here he was asking him to go into battle with him. It wasn't just a skill thing. Such a direct and personal request was an expression of trust. One would only ask someone they trusted to fight alongside them in war. It was a rather intimate bonding experience despite the blood, gore, and horrific death that came with it. With small knowing smiles being exchanged Thranduil released Himelon's hand and the raven haired male disappeared through the door into the rest of the palace. Himelon had understood the gravity of what he'd been asked and they both now knew that the idea that they were friends wasn't just a selfish thought that the other could and would not reciprocate.


	16. Chapter 16

The time was early morning. Just before the sun was to rise and the stars shone brightest as if bidding the world farewell. Himelon was perched on the edge of the window overlooking the main courtyard of King Thranduil's halls. As his eyes wandered the ground below his attention was caught by a select group of Silvan elves moving about setting up horses and taking one more look over their armor and weapons. At daybreak they were to set out for the North and there was to be no rest from when they would leave to when they would arrive. The raven haired elf's eyes drifted onto the silver bundle of fabric laying on the bed. After Thranduil had requested that Himelon join him in battle the raven haired male had sent a dove to Imladris. Attached to the dove was letter requesting the Lord Elrond send Himelon's armor to Greenwood. After the battle for Middle Earth Himelon had thought that he would have little need for his complete set of armor. In truth it was very rare for an elf to be injured in a fight and even more rare, since the fall of Sauron, was for an elf to be attacked at all. It was for these reasons that Himelon had left his armor in the care of Lord Elrond. A few days after the dove had been sent to Imladris a falcon came to Greenwood baring the bundle of silver fabric that contained Himelon's ancient armor. Silently and gracefully Himelon moved from his perch to change into his armor. They would be leaving soon.

The raven haired elf had made it himself in the shining forges of Valinor along with his bow and blade and brought them all with him when he sailed to Middle Earth. The armor itself was mithril and moonlight woven together to make strands like silk rather than links as the dwarves had done when working with mithril. It was a set of long sleeved tunic and ankle length pants. Over the top of the armor were two piece of black fabric. One to go over the tunic and another to go over the pants. The fabric that sat over the tunic was cut open to reveal the mithril beneath and the pants were the same way. The tunic fabric connected at the V-shaped neckline, the bottom of the sleeves that meet the wrists and the waist leaving slits on either side of the arms and torso. The fabric for the pants were connected at the ankles and waist leaving slits down either side of the legs. As usual Himelon was going bare foot. After putting on the light yet solid armor Himelon moved to the mirror and wove a pair of braids on either side of his hair that connected in the back and continued until all of the locks involved could no longer be braided. The effects was that of one continuous braid that began on either side of the head and flowed down the back of the remaining loose bits of hair. Atop his head Himelon situated the mithril circlet with the blue pearl that had never been absent from his brow. Swinging his bow and quiver of arrows over his back and attaching his sword to his waist Himelon paused to take in his reflection.

"Déjà vu." Himelon muttered with a soft shake of his head and a small smile. Indeed Himelon looked exactly as he had on the day Sauron fell and on that day he look exactly as he had on the day he arrived in Middle Earth. It seemed to the raven haired male that he always looked the same when something important was about to happen. And yet he could not quite place his finger on what was going to be so important about this excerpt of time. Shaking his head and giving a sharp nod Himelon glided swiftly down to the square below where all of the elves who were to leave were gathering.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when Thranduil finished readying himself. He wore a suit of mithril plated armor that was cared intricately with elvish runes and spells for protection. His hair was loose and yet pulled back away from his face as not to get in the way and atop his head rested a woven circlet of silver gifted to him by Lord Elrond. He wore tall black boots and his extravagant rings were absent from his hands. Even in battle armor he looked ever the King. At his hip sat a sturdy silver sword with a golden wood hilt and a large emerald at the end.

Thranduil had been thoroughly unable to sleep. He had instructed everyone who was to leave with him to sleep early for they would have to rise early and would not be stopping to rest along the way. Yet Thranduil had been unable to take his own advice. The experience and loss of the last battle he had been in was still too near. The starlight haired King found the little sleep he had managed to get haunted by visages of dragon fire and countless dead bodies. Again and again the black and orange flame had bathed over him and his people while they could do nothing but flee. Then he would awake to find dawn growing ever nearer and a sickening knot growing in his stomach. Something was not as it had seemed and Thranduil simply could not put aside the feeling that he was marching himself and his friends to their doom. Despite all that Thranduil suppressed it all. His people could not see him afraid or weak. If they were to follow him into battle they would need to know that he was strong. They would need to know that they could count on their King to keep them safe. Even if he himself was uncertain as to whether he could do that. With a sigh and a silent prayer to whatever gods might hear Thranduil made his way down to the courtyard gentle step by gentle step.


	17. Chapter 17

Once everyone was gathered it became apparent who was different. Everyone of the Silvan elves wore green and brown armor made of leather enforced with a silvery metal underneath. Their hair was pulled back into one large braid and most carried bow, arrow, and small daggers with which to fight. At the head of the sea of brown and green was a starlight haired elf adorned in shining silver. There was no doubt he was the leader. He carried his head high and sat atop a large chestnut brown elk with massive antlers. Even the beast gave off a regal and majestic air as it and its master moved through the forest just as the sun was beginning to shine down through the canopy. Following him were the Silvan elves. Some of them rode white horses while other simply went on foot. Among the wood elves following their King was a single elf male dressed in raven black with hair to match. Peeking out from his clothing was the undeniable glow of moonlight and unmistakable lavender-ish silver of mithril. The raven haired elf ran ahead of the King scouting the safest and quickest path for he knew the land known as Middle Earth like no other of his kin. As they passed through the land stopping not for rain or snow nor night or day all who saw were awed and afraid for it was well known that elves do not march to battle lightly.

For three days and nights they traveled across the land. Then on the morning of the fourth day they saw it. The once beautiful elf trading town was a red torch against the sky and the blood of the fallen stained the pristine white snow. Orcs and elves met in the streets as a clash or elegance a ferocity. The battle had already begun for the orcs had made their move in the dead of the night. Many of the inhabitants of the town lay dead and those who survived to fight were barley able to arm themselves with better weapons than their fists. Yet they had held their ground and number of dead orcs was twice the number of elves they had slaughtered in their night ambush. The dying shrieks and screams of elf and orc alike were deafening and the stench of death consumed the ordinarily crisp fresh air. No sooner had Thranduil and his men seen the devastation that they too joined the fray. Cheers of hope sprang up from the survivors of the town and enraged roars from the orcs as the elves from Greenwood aided in the struggles. Minutes, hours, perhaps even days seemed to slow to nothing. Amidst the carnage and smoke stained sky there was nothing to gauge time by. Thranduil had been right in his feeling that something was amiss. Where there should have been a few meddlesome orc packs there was an army of the foul creatures. Even with nearly one thousand elves, after combining the forces from Greenwood and the survivors from the town, the orcs still kept coming. Where one orc was cut down two more seemed to take his place. This was a coordinated strike meant to draw the elvish forces from the surrounding lands of Middle Earth so that they could be exterminated.

No one knew how long they had been pushing on. They only knew that their strength was beginning to fade and their numbers were thinning. At the head of the lines pushing the orcs back was King Thranduil and even further ahead cutting down orcs within their own ranks was Himelon. When they had joined the battle Himelon had run full charge into the orc forces and was doing everything he could to draw their attention and give Thranduil and his Silvan elves the opportunity they might need to thin the orcs out. Along the way there Himelon had become very aware that he would likely not return. Seeing the concern on Thranduil's face and hearing the phantom screams of the dying in his ears even as they traveled through Dale had made him all to aware of this. And so he fought with the abandon of a dead man. He did not care for how tired he was becoming or even if he had become injured. All that mattered was giving his kin the chance to win the battle and push the orcs back. The feeling echoed in Himelon the past. He had felt exactly this way when he had marched in the ranks of Lord Elrond to Mordor. Likewise Thranduil felt no pain. His mind was set on keeping, what was left of, his people safe. He was thoroughly determined not to die or let the orcs win. Greenwood had already lost one King and Thranduil had no son to take his place should he fall. Death was not an option and neither was defeat.

As time trudged on the orc forces grew thinner and thinner and moved further and further back. Victory seemed to be near when all fell silent and still. Amidst the shouts and screams of battle came a silent whisper of death. The wind stilled and the whole world seemed to fall silent. As orc and elf alike froze under the eerie still there came a wind like a hurricane. It swept down upon them from west to east and brought with it the unmistakable scent of sulfur and burned flesh. As the realization of what the raging battle had summoned struck the orcs shrieked in horror and ran. They forgot their prey and enemy and all that they had been striving for and fled with screams and stampeding feet. When Thranduil placed the clues together he was gripped with a fear unlike any he had before experienced. He had heard the stories and once, as an elfling, had to been healed after witnessing the horrors of what was coming for them wrought out upon his mother. Amongst the elves he had brought with him only one moved from his frozen stated. Only one shared the same horror as the Elven King. Only one other seemed to know. As Thranduil lurched forward to pull his men back the voice of the raven haired elf range above the silence and wind.


	18. Chapter 18

"Dragon!" was the word that left from Himelon's lips as he ran toward the other elves motioning frantically for them to run. As Thranduil pulled at his men and Himelon's voice let the words sink in the Silvan elves ran. They too forsook their enemy and task in favor of not being burned alive. No sooner had they begun to move that the roar of the dragon rang out and the all consuming flame followed. The dragon was large and green. Its eyes shone with the fire that brewed in its belly and would have been considered, had the circumstances been different, very beautiful. Despite its magnificence the dragon was death on wings. Elves stood strong with shields, blades, and bow and arrow. They tried to fight the beast and protect their kin and King but their efforts were for naught. The dragon struck them down with every swipe of its claws and tail and with every bite and breath of its fire.

Thranduil continued to push against his people in efforts of biding his kin flee. As he made his way to the forefront of the dragon related carnage to pull back the elves who still stood strong the starlight haired King found himself coming face to face with the creature responsible for the scorching flames that consumed his friends and soldiers. The dragon stood over him and pulled its maw back into a terrifying snarling grin of white teeth. It did not speak nor did it regard Thranduil as anything more than a nuisance. It had not come to kill for food nor hunt for treasures. The dragon had come to revel in the violence and carnage that their battle with the orcs had begun. It's emerald mouth opened and the glowing golden fire in its gut grew ever brighter as it threatened to spew forth and engulf the starlight haired elf King in fire. Around him Thranduil was aware of elves with shields trying to rush to his aid yet he knew they would not make it in time. Gripping his sword tighter Thranduil prepared for the scorching agony that would no doubt lead to his death.

As the dragon reared back its head and Thranduil locked his icy blue eyes on the source of the oncoming inferno the starlight haired elf felt something make contact with his left side. It was soft and warm yet firm. As he jerked his head to see what it was everything moved in slow motion to him. Thranduil's feet left the ground and his whole body jerked right. As he flew through the air he saw standing where he had been Himelon. The raven haired elf had slammed into Thranduil's left side as hard as he could to shove him out of the way of the oncoming dragon fire. There was no time for Thranduil to yell or even comprehend sound before Himelon was engulfed in dragon fire. For a moment their eyes had met and Thranduil had seen sorrow and love shining there. As the starlight haired King hit the snow covered ground his head was snapped back and all he saw was sky. All he heard were the heart wrenching screams of the raven haired male as the flames engulfed his skin. Thranduil launched to his feet, unable to see straight, and rushed forward to where Himelon had been. He was quickly grabbed by a pair of strong hands and shoved behind a wall of bodies. The heat of the dragon's fire licked at his exposed skin as the group of elves shielding him moved away from the blaze as quickly as possible. Everything blurred. The screams of the dying, the roar of the dragon, and the stench of the dead. He saw his people shielding him and each other. He saw elves being impaled or burned by the dragon. And ultimately he saw the dragon flying away. He had been fading in and out of consciousness from the fall when Himelon had pushed him out of the way but even though his vision was not focused he pushed passed the elves trying to make certain he was unharmed. His eyes scanned the burnt ground for something, anything, that could be the raven haired elf. As he stumbled through the burnt landscape shaking off elf after elf who tried to restrain him Thranduil felt a weak hand grip his ankle. Thranduil spun to see who had grabbed him and in an instant his vision cleared. Gripping his ankle with bloody fingers was Himelon. His left side was thoroughly mangled and burned while his right was horrifically marred with injury from dragon's claws. And yet Thranduil knew it was the raven haired elf. He didn't know how he knew. He just knew.

In one swift movement Thranduil scooped up what was left of the raven haired elf. He didn't care for the blood or protests of his kin. All Thranduil could think of was getting Himelon to Imladris. He could not loose him. Even if it killed him Thranduil was going to find a way to save Himelon. As he ran Thranduil's elk, which was fortunately unharmed, found its way to him and they rode hard and fast. The rest of the surviving elves, although they did not understand their King's frantic behavior, followed suit. They gathered up the injured and rode as quickly as they could West to Imladris. They rode day and night and again and again Thranduil prayed to whomever would listen. He pleaded with every god he could think of to just save the raven haired elf laying in his arms. In the moment when he had hit the ground and Himelon had been engulfed in dragon fire in his place, when their eyes had met Thranduil had known one thing from his lost memories. He had know that look in Himelon's eyes.

He had known the love he saw there to be more than just the love of a subject for his King. It was a love that possessed Himelon to throw himself into the dragon's inferno when he could have run and saved himself. Thranduil would not let him die for he also felt the deep pang and ache of losing one whom he too loved. For so long he had not understood why Himelon would not leave his mind. Why he had been tormented with nightmares and memories for so long. And now he understood. He cared for the raven haired elf in a way he had not cared for anyone else. And now as he rode to Imladris to plead for the aid of Lord Elrond he felt he would sooner give up his own life than let Himelon die.

Thranduil had not known when he had crossed the boarder into Elrond's lands. He had been too focused on telling Himelon not to die and searching for any signs of life in the burnt and mangled body to notice. Yet when he had felt his elk stop and seen that he had just crossed the main gates of Imladris and, subsequently, drawn the attention of everyone there he wasted no time.

"Where is Elrond?" the question had come as more of a paniced demand as Thranduil had swung down from the elk, all the while being careful not to drop the elf in his arms, "We need help now!" Yet again he had sounded less like a King and more like a desperate individual at the end of his options. He didn't care. The crowd parted and grimaced at the sight of the elf in his arms and the trail of ash stained blood that was left in Thranduil's wake as one of Elrond's sons led him to the main healing chambers caused many of them to look away.

Elrond had been shocked and disgusted when he had burst frantically into the healing chambers. When word had reached him that Thranduil and many of his warriors were in Imladris seeking healing Elrond had dropped everything and rushed to the chamber Thranduil was in. He had been anticipating the starlight haired male to be the one injured. What he had not been expecting was the stomach churning scent of burned flesh and blood and to see Thranduil kneeling at the bedside of an unrecognizable creature cradling its head and weeping.

"Thranduil," Elrond began as he stifled the urge to look away and placed a hand on the starlight haired King's shoulder, "Are you hurt?" The concern in Elrond's eyes had been true. He was worried if Thranduil, his friend, was injured but more so he needed to see how Thranduil would respond to him. He needed to see if the other male was able to comprehend his words and respond accordingly.

"You have to save him!" the shout had broken free from the Elven King's lips no sooner than Elrond's words had ended. With tears in his eyes and ash and blood covering his face he had turned and taken a tight hold of Elrond's shoulder practically shoving him toward the bed. That was not the answer Elrond had been hoping for. Nodding and giving a weak smile he had reassured Thranduil that he would do what he could and ushered him off to another healer's room. Thranduil himself was in need of healing. Some physical but mostly mental. Sighing Elrond turned back to the elf laying in the bed in front of him. He checked for a pulse expecting there to be none and immediately jumped into action the moment he felt the weak heart beat. He grabbed herbs and charms and starlight. As promised he would do everything he could to save the individual Thranduil had so frantically pleaded with him to heal. Elrond could not tell who he was healing because the damage was too disfiguring when he began but he knew they were important the his king and friend. That was more than enough reason for him to pour every single ounce of his skill as a healer into this one elf.


	19. Chapter 19

Floating. That was the sensation Himelon was met with as he faded in and out of consciousness. He floated through dreams, reality, and memory. He remembered the battle in all it's horrific wonder. When the dragon had appeared Himelon had been the first to run. He'd run bidding everyone else do the same and had no intention of stopping until he was halfway across Middle Earth and well into the Misty Mountains. However one glance of his eyes to the left as he fled to escape the dragon had changed his plans. Standing brave and strong in front of the beast was Thranduil. His starlight hair blew in the wind like the final wisps of starlight before the dawn and he showed no fear outwardly as he stared down the emerald furnace. In that moment nothing else had mattered to Himelon. Almost of their own accord his feet turn and carried him straight into the side of the starlight haired King shoving him out of the way. With his heart beating a mile a minute and the single snippet of memory of the starlight haired elf from his dreams smiling and holding him filling his mind Himelon finally made the connection. The reason he couldn't stop thinking about the Elven King and the reason his emotions were swinging so violently as of late was because he did know the starlight haired king. The raven haired male finally made the connection that Thranduil was the starlight haired elf from his dreams. With a soft smile and bit moment of eye contact Himelon had tried to convey his thoughts. Not a second after Thranduil was out of range of the fire did Himelon feel the scorching heat. The pain had only lasted for a second before everything went black. As the raven haired elf floated his mind turned to dreams. He could hear someone calling for him but it didn't matter. He surely thought he was being ferried into the halls of Mandos and so he let his mind and soul wander.

"Good morning," the whisper rand near Himelon's ear and was accompanied by a soft warmth pressing closely to his side, "I know you're awake." Opening his eyes softly the raven haired elf was met with the image of the starlight haired male he'd seen so often hovering over him propping himself up on his elbows. On the starlight haired elf's face was a gentle smile. Himelon only blinked at him trying to move only to be limited by the position of the starlight haired elf.

"If you want me to get up," the raven haired elf muttered sleepily, "then please move." A chuckle and a weight on his chest were the only responses Himelon got. With his eyes traveling to the source of the weight the raven haired male saw an all too content Thranduil snuggling into his chest and pushing the thin silver fabric of Himelon's sleeping robe out of the way so his head could rest on the other male's chest without the barrier.

"I don't want you to get up," Thranduil cooed softly letting loose a soft hum, "I just want you to be awake." The raven haired elf smiled widely and brought a hand up to rest in the silky starlight locks draping across his right arm. Neither spoke or moved. As Himelon let his head fall backwards the scene faded and he was once again floating.

Within his unconscious state many dreams as pleasant as the first drifted into his thoughts. He experienced many of his days in Valinor and even relived the moment of his creation. He watched as his memory unfolded his landing in Middle Earth and the battles that had haunted the first 300 years of life there. He saw the rise and fall of kingdoms all over again and witness the life and deaths of many elves he had once called friends. From afar he had seen it all. There was little that had come to pass in Middle Earth that Himelon had not seen. Among the good memories and dreams there also dwelt the bad. He re-lived the forging of the rings of power and the destruction wrought by Sauron with the One Ring. He marched to war against Mordor and died countless times as his memories began to merge. He felt the slow fade of his enthusiasm and trust. As he watched the elves he'd known as friends die or sail from Middle Earth the felt himself become more and more distant and isolated than he had been in the beginning. Himelon watched until all that was left of those he called friend was Elrond. Then the most recent events began to play out as his mind was pulled ever closer to consciousness. Ever closer to his body. He saw his arrival in Greenwood and all that had unfolded. He tasted the blueberry pie and smelled the perfumes of Thranduil as he stood all too close to him. In a flash the sweet taste and smell became the stench of rot and death. Then there was the heat and pain again. Pain that should have faded as all of the other memories and dreams did. But it did not. It continued and grew until it snapped him back into his body. The pull on his mind and soul was strong and a voice rang around him as flashes of white architecture and the face of Elrond. Himelon felt his mouth open and his body move but he heard no sound and felt only the burning sensation that had brought him back to conciousness.


	20. Chapter 20

Lord Elrond had been working for half a day before he had managed to remove enough of the damage to identify the creature he was healing. It had been the woven mithril armor that had initially told him of the other's identity but he had not wanted it to be true and did not accept it until he had begun to heal the right side of the creature's face. The major wounds had been addressed and the main work was in the reconstruction now. As moonlight skin and raven hair returned where there had been nothing recognizable Elrond had felt his stomach clench. There were not many in Middle Earth he truly considered personal friends. There were many acquaintances but few friends and it tore him up inside to see one of his friends in such a state. None the less the Lord of Imladris had pushed on.

It took another half of a day to heal the right side of the raven haired elf's body. Elrond hadn't even begun to attempt to reconstruct the left yet. He knew that he didn't have the strength for that after healing the rest. And so he had bandaged the left side thoroughly with a paste of healing herbs and starlight and left to rest. As always he would stay in the room with his patient. Elrond disliked the idea of leaving lest something should happen in the night. And indeed something did happen as Elrond was resting. Thranduil, having escaped from his own healers, had wandered back in to see how Himelon was doing. Elrond had been roused from his sleep by soft whispers and a smell that didn't belong. As he'd risen from the bed Elrond saw Thranduil sitting near the bedside gently stroking Himelon's right cheek and singing softly and sweetly to him. There would have been no problem with this had it not been stirring Himelon. The raven haired elf's body was not yet ready to receive his conscious mind just yet and the soft whimpers and movements that Himelon was attempting told of how Himelon was trying to wake. Elrond had moved swiftly and silently to try and convince Thranduil to go and rest but the Elven King was having none of it. He didn't budge even when Elrond had pulled gently on his arm in attempt to get him to stand.

"You're going to wake him," Elrond spoke softly and yet sharply as his hazel eyes stared into Thranduil's blue ones, "Waking him up might just kill him." The last statement had been enough to silence Thranduil's soft melody but unfortunately the damage was done. The soft whimpers and small movements were growing. More in attempt to put Himelon back to sleep than anything else Elrond had swiftly retrieved some valerian and placed the smoking bundle under Himelon's nose. It did nothing. The whimpers became groans which ultimately grew into an ear piercing scream as Himelon's pale blue eyes shot open. He was conscious and well aware of his injuries. It had taken both Elrond and Thranduil's strengths to hold the raven haired elf down as he cried out and thrashed hopelessly. Too often had Elrond and Thranduil both seen this exact response end in the death of the injured if not dealt with immediately. And so with Thranduil holding Himelon down Elrond removed the bandages and did all that he could to heal the raven haired elf's left side.

By the time Elrond had finished healing Himelon the sun had risen and set again. Even then Himelon's left side was not entirely healed. There was nothing more that could be done and Himelon was asleep again but the scars were still difficult to look at. Most of the face had been reconstructed well but there was still a gaping wound on Himelon's cheek that revealed the inside of the mouth and jaw bone. The raven haired elf's left eye was also unrecoverable and sat blind in its socket. Moving down the neck there was a deeply carved indentation at the collarbone that revealed said bone beneath it. Along the raven haired elf's left arm were deep indentations that bunched together with silvery skin and scar tissue. Himelon's left side was left marked with an indentation that revealed the top of the hipbone and curved sharply inward at the stomach with more of the silvery skin and scar tissue. Lastly down his left leg were silver rivers of scar tissue that almost looked like spider webs.

Elrond let out a shaky sigh as he collapsed into a nearby chair. He was exhausted and couldn't believe that Himelon had even survived. As the Lord of Imladris let his eyes wander the room lazily he cast a soft gaze at Thranduil who still stood at the foot of the bed taking in the sight before him. For a moment Elrond thought the starlight haired King might leave and take his men back to Greenwood hoping to forget about Himelon. That was until he saw Thranduil bend down and whisper softly against the raven haired elf's ear. As he spoke the scarred areas began to fade into seamless perfection of what they once were.

"You've healed the scars?" the question came more in disbelief than anything from Elrond. He had never heard of such techniques existing that could heal the scars from a dragon's breath. And yet that is exactly what had appeared to have happened.

"I hid them." the statement was spoken softly by Thranduil but carried all the weight of Middle Earth with it. The scars were still there. Just no longer visible. Elrond nodded softly and let his eyes close. Elves being a bit of a vain race do not take well to such injuries. By hiding the scars Thranduil was sparing Himelon the embarrassment that would come with the stares and disgusted glances that would surely come should the scars be on display. It was a kind gesture if nothing else. Yet again Elrond had expected the Elven King to take his leave. Yet again he did not. Instead Thranduil pulled up a free chair and took watch over the sleeping elf. He would wait there as long as necessary until Himelon awoke.


	21. Chapter 21

When the raven haired elf woke it was deep into the night. It was a moonless night and as a result the shadows being cast throughout Imladris were nothing short of eerie. The only light provided was the soft glow of pale blue lanterns that gave the place an unreal appearance. The elegant architecture having striking, contrasting shadows that twisted and turned into shapes both beautiful and menacing did little to lessen the sensation that what was seen and perceived was not real. For the first time in ages Himelon woke without thought or sensation. As his pale blue eyes wandered the room he felt detached as if in a dream. It was as though he was simply watching a scene play out without any control over his own movements. At the left side of his bed was an elegantly carved white wooden chair occupied by Thranduil who had fallen asleep with his head resting in his hands. The small twitched of his face and hands indicated that he slept lightly and dreamt deeply. To the right was a small bed-like sofa which was inhabited by Lord Elrond who too had fallen asleep reclining on the small violet sofa. His sleep was significantly deeper and his breathing had become so light it seemed as if he drew no breath at all. Slowly the raven haired elf slipped out of the bed and made his way to the door. Along the way he made note of where his bow and blade rested before silently slipping out of the room.

The first thought that Himelon recognized was that something was wrong. The lack of sensation throughout his body did little to aid in the discovery of the problem but something still seemed off to the raven haired male. His feet carried him slowly and lightly through the halls of Imladris as if of their own accord. From the healing chambers down through the gardens to the main bathing pools Himelon silently wandered. There was no wind or stirrings of creature or elf as he went and all sound seemed to have evaporated from the world. The second conscious thought to enter the raven haired male's mind was that there seemed to be nothing on his left side. Nothing he could see anyway. It was as if a void rested where the left side of his vision should have been. The thought was not enough to rouse him from his detached state however.

The main bathing pools of Imladris were underground fed springs that pooled and ultimately flowed down into raging rivers that gave way to waterfalls. They were lined with blue lanterns and, on this particular night, the water seemed to be made of glowing blue glass. The time it took Himelon to disrobe and enter the water was exceedingly slow. It seemed as if time itself had slowed to a crawl and the stiff protests of his limbs did not allow for easy removal of the thin silver sleeping gown that had been placed on him. For hours the raven haired elf just floated and reclined in the pristine pools as he slowly felt his senses returning to him. It was if the gentle caress of the water was washing away the embrace of sleep and bringing him fully back to the conscious world.

As the golden sun appeared softly on the horizon Himelon rose from the comforting embrace of the cool water with intent to return to the room in which he'd first awoken. He now heard sound and distantly felt the touch of the ground beneath his feet, but the raven haired elf still felt distant and detached as if his body were not his own. As he slipped the silver fabric back on Himelon became very aware that something was not as it seemed. Where ordinarily there was fluid motion and little to no strain it felt as if his limbs could barely moved. The tension of the skin on his left side was as if it was pulled taught like animal hide over a drum. As confusion spread over his face the raven haired elf gently brushed his fingers over his left arm. It looked as he last remembered and felt, to the touch, as it should and yet Himelon couldn't shake the feeling that there was illusion at play. Sitting down by the water's edge and furrowing his brow Himelon tried to think back to the events prior in hopes of finding the answer. He remembered Greenwood and all that had transpired there. He could remember dawning battle armor and going somewhere. Then there was a gap. He remembered dreaming of something or someone perhaps and then of waking in Imladris and all that had occurred since. Closing his eyes the raven haired elf focused himself on remembering why he had put on armor and where he had been going. There were only faint glimmers at first. The stench of the dead, snow, fire, orcs and something hot. Very hot. There were shouts and words. The more he concentrated the more of the words he could decipher in the depths of his mind yet they made as little sense as and unfamiliar language to him. Just as a soft pressure in his skull was beginning to develop the raven haired elf was able to make out one word. And that one word was all it took to bring everything crashing back to him. Sensation, memory, and knowledge of why his left side was dark and his skin felt odd. That one word was "Dragon".

With a gasp and single tear rolling from his right eye Himelon was snapped back into reality with such force that it left his feeling dizzy. He turned and ran back through the halls to the healing room he'd woken in. As his feet carried him blindly and he expertly swerved around the elves who were beginning to wake and emerge from their rooms the memory of shoving Thranduil out of the way and the dragon flame was all that played in his head. The raven haired elf cared little for how much noise he made when he re-entered the healing chambers. In a few movements Himelon had crossed the room to the full length mirror stopping mere inches in front of it. His expression was empty as if devoid of all thought and emotion. The exact opposite was the case. He was afraid, curious, anxious, and excited all at the same time. He feared what he would find under the illusion of his skin and yet Himelon was fascinated that he had survived. In the mirror he caught sight of both Elrond and Thranduil waking with a start and moving towards him. The starlight haired male said something but the words were unheard as Himelon released the spell that had been so expertly cast over his left side. For a second there was pain. It felt as if his skin was being torn clean off but then there was nothing. The scars were plain to see and the only sensation on the left side was that of the air caressing the gaps in his flesh.

Elrond looked away and halfway looked as if he himself was in pain while Thranduil simply stared with gentle eyes full of sorrow. The Elven King had been blaming himself for the other male's wounds. Had he not asked Himelon to come these scars would surely been his own. Guilt and a deep set desire to protect the other with everything he had gnawed at the starlight haired male's gut. Out of instinct and desire to comfort the other Thranduil took a few cautious steps forward and reached out to touch the other. The touch had been purposely aimed for the left side of Himelon but his hand was thwarted by the raven haired elf's own curiosity. Himelon slowly drug his fingers of the scars one by one starting with his eye. His hand did not shake and his expression had not changed. It was as if he stood there unaffected and simply assessing the damage as one would a broken arrow or damaged shield.


	22. Chapter 22

"Himelon…" Thranduil's soft voice broke through the raven haired elf's thoughts and the slender hand that had come to rest on his left arm brought him back to reality. Himelon flinched at the contact. He knew he shouldn't have because it would likely be taken the wrong way, but he simply couldn't bare for anyone to touch that. It wasn't beautiful and it wasn't attractive. The scars that would have been the pride of men and the beauty of orcs were nothing more than repulsive to elves. Himelon didn't understand the gesture Thranduil had been trying to make or the ultimate meaning behind it. He was only confused as to why the starlight haired elf would even consider touching his left side. As Thranduil retracted his hand feeling slightly hurt and even more guilty thinking that Himelon was blaming him for the injuries Thranduil opened his mouth to speak. He was however cut off by Himelon spinning passed him and over to the main healing table to retrieve a vial of starlight.

"We tried everything," the blonde King started averting his gaze to the ground, "They can't be fixed." Thranduil's words had been laced with sorrow and regret while Elrond's grimace spoke volumes more.

"I know," Himelon replied with a voice as steady and clam as a high mountain lake on the eve of winter, "But I have to try for myself." The statement had been matter of fact and blunt. It wasn't that Himelon didn't trust the healing techniques of his kin, it was just that he knew a few healing spells that had faded from the memories of most. Unfortunately the result was an unchanged stated of being. Just as Thranduil had said, the scars could not be fixed while Himelon yet dwelt in Middle Earth. They could only be concealed. Letting out a shaky breath the raven haired elf let himself drop down to the bed and the illusion that Thranduil had placed on him flowed effortlessly back over the scars. It would appear as if he had been completely healed. Himelon's appearance would look as it always had and for that he was grateful. It was no secret that some elves could be cruel when judging others based on appearance. In truth most all elves judged each other based on appearance even if they didn't realize it. Even though Himelon had little contact with other elves he still felt comforted knowing that he would look as he always had. Whether he was around others often or not he didn't want to have to look at the scars if he didn't have to.

"Thank you," the raven haired elf smiled gently at Elrond and Thranduil despite his eyes swelling with sadness, "I will be gone before the hour is out." The statement had caused both Elrond and Thranduil to startle and they both moved toward the be in unison and one barely managed to speak before the other.

"You are not yet fully healed," Elrond had managed to bite out sharply before Thranduil could speak, "You cannot travel alone." Elrond knew the stubbornness and will of the elder male but he would not allow him to leave so soon after being healed. The Lord of Imladris had half a mind to place a guard at the door to make certain Himelon did not leave until he had fully recuperated. The brunette haired male would have expressed this had Thranduil not cut him off by jumping in as soon as Elrond had finished his sentence.

"I have not yet given you permission to leave," the words had come out as more of a frantic stumble than a real argument, "You will return to Greenwood with me." The Elven King's eyes had returned to their icy stated as he gazed down at the other male once again invading Himelon's personal space.

"Technically that is not your decision to make," Himelon half chuckled as he titled his head to the side, "We are no longer in Greenwood and this is Elrond's home. It's his decision." In the time Himelon had been in Greenwood he had become quite attached to the starlight haired king but, given the recent developments, thought that it would likely be best if he killed his ever growing feelings for Thranduil before they could fully manifest. A King could never find a disfigured elf attractive and Himelon figured he should just spare himself the pain of being told that.

"I do not care," Thranduil had bit out the statement as swiftly as a flash of lightening as his eyes softened once again and he brought himself to crouch down to make eye contact with the raven haired elf, "You will return with me. I have already failed to protect you once and will not do it again." Thranduil pulled Himelon off the bed and tightly into his arms as tears leaked slowly out from the blonde King's eyes and the weight of his confession sunk in to both Himelon and Elrond. In that moment Elrond understood why Thranduil had stayed rather than taking his men and leaving. He had feelings for the raven haired elf.

"You deserve better," Himelon mumbled softly as his own tears began to leak gently from his right eye, "A beautiful maid perhaps…" Despite his soft protest verbally the raven haired elf was doing little to protest to the embrace. Himelon had snuggled softly into the starlight haired male's shoulder and rather tightly returned the embrace. At the moment the raven haired elf had a very low opinion of himself in the physical appearance department. It would likely have been different if Thranduil had not known about the scars. Lying was something Himelon could do with relative ease. The fact that the Elven King had seen the scars is what made his so insecure. Ordinarily these sorts of things would have been the furthest thing from Himelon's mind but his attraction to the blonde king was undeniable and seemed to have made him rather self conscious.

"You're beautiful." Thranduil's tears had stopped and he'd pulled Himelon from his shoulder to look the other male in the eye in hopes of conveying the fact that he was not lying to make other feel better, "I will tell you every day until you believe it." The Elven King let a soft smile play across his features as he saw Himelon's acceptance of the simple fact that he was not to be rid of the starlight haired elf King. A small nod and rather pointed lean into Thranduil was what ended the conversation. Wrapping his arms around Himelon the starlight haired male placed both himself and the raven haired elf back into the bed. As he felt Himelon start to relax against him Thranduil glanced back at Elrond with an appreciative smile. Elrond, in return, smiled gently at Thranduil before excusing himself with a soft nod.


	23. Chapter 23

The return trip to Greenwood had been slow and rather awkward. There were many injured and even more dead. No one really walked with a purpose or unaffected gait. Some leaned to the left, others to the right, while others still limped along or trailed behind weighted down by grief. Despite the near demand from Thranduil that Himelon ride on the elk with him the raven haired male had chosen to walk. Overall Himelon had avoided contact with Thranduil since leaving Imladris. He would barely look at the blonde and did all he could to not speak or touch Thranduil. Subsequently the Elven King was left sinking ever further into a pit of self blame and guilt. He took the raven haired elf's actions as an expression of anger or perhaps even hate for what had happened. It was illogical Thranduil knew and yet he couldn't seem to banish such ideas from his mind. Every time Himelon would stumble or bump into something on his left side Thranduil couldn't stop the flash that reveal to him, through memory, the reason why.

Watching the raven haired male attempt to fire a bow and arrow or grab onto things with his left arm was even more painful. In time Himelon would likely recover some resemblance of normal use with his left side but it was still too soon. Attempting to use his left arm to grip or pull resulted in a rather obvious grimace and recoil while Himelon whimpered from the pain. With the bow and arrow the discomfort had been obvious while the arrows angled sharply left. Himelon seemed to notice and after a few days of trying, despite being told not to, the raven haired elf had managed to recover his use of bow and arrow.

When they crossed the border into Greenwood the group had been met by overjoyed men, women, and children alike. All of them greeted the returning elves with song and flowers while they searched for their sons, husbands, wives, and children. It was obvious to all that the number returning was drastically smaller than the number who had left. Thranduil had left Greenwood with and army that was 800 strong and returned with only 400. Those were the survivors. The number of elves who would be able to fight again and who had returned with only mental scaring was, at best, 200. Despite the large numbers who had fallen everyone was grateful that not all of Greenwood's soldiers had left and that the King was unharmed. Much to Himelon's embarrassment it soon became common knowledge as to why the King was unharmed.

Most of the elves who had shielded him until the dragon left had proudly accepted the praise while the raven haired elf had awkwardly snuck away from the crowd and back to the room he had previously been given. Thranduil had tried to follow but had ultimately been detained by the many elves and elleths attempting to care for him. Some offered food and drink while others insisted on making certain he was uninjured. For about 30 minutes the courtyard of Greenwood was a bustling mess of reunions, extra healing, and general fussing. Thranduil himself had been rushed off to his personal chambers to be tended to. It was not proper for a King to be so dirty or look so tired. At least that's what a white haired elf who was one of his personal servants kept going on about. The starlight haired king did have to admit though, bathing in warm clean water and falling into his soft bed felt amazing.

As Himelon snuck off and away from the fussing crowd of elves in the courtyard he became very aware that he was being followed. There was a young servant elf with brilliant orange hair and violet eyes who was sneaking along behind him rather badly. Himelon ignored the other male and gave a small chuckle and shake of his head as he closed the door to his guest chambers and was about to lock them when there was a sharp knock.

"Wait!" the voice had been shrill and almost feminine, "Don't you want anything?" Himelon furrowed his brow and quirked and eyebrow as he opened the door to reveal the orange haired elf. The young male had seemed startled and rather flustered by the raven haired elf's expression before trying to press his way into the room. Trying being the key word. He was ultimately only able to wedge himself halfway into the room before being thoroughly obstructed by Himelon.

"Explain." the word had been a soft demand. Himelon wanted to know what the orange haired elf had meant. Even more so he wanted to know why the other had been following him without identifying himself. Yet again the violet eyed male was startled and took a few steps back while fiddling with his fingers before answering.

"I'm supposed to help care for guests," the orange haired elf stuttered slightly and averted his gaze, "but you looked upset and I didn't want to make anything worse. So…do you need anything? Like a bath or food?" The last two questions had been accented with a nervous smile. The young male was rather socially awkward and that fact in an of itself drew a soft smile from Himelon's lips.

"I'm not upset," the raven haired elf chuckled, "just lost in thought. A bath and some wine would be nice. If you have any that is. Perhaps a change of clothes if something is available as well." Himelon accented his request with a gentle smile as the orange haired elf beamed and trotted off. It was the first time since his arrival that Himelon had requested anything of the servants in Greenwood. He was usually too shy or felt such a thing would be inappropriate given his position as a prisoner-guest. However the other had asked and Himelon had found himself feeling less like a prisoner and more like a guest as of late. He had also become all too aware that he would need some help with things that had previously been easy. That however was not something he was will just yet to admit verbally to anyone. When the orange haired elf returned Himelon had bathed and enjoyed the wine. It was a rich red wine that was heavy and sweet with a strong hum of alcohol. It was a comforting sensation and flavor that reminded Himelon of the wines he would often enjoy in Valinor. Letting out a sigh and finishing the glass Himelon crawled lethargically into the large soft bed with silky sheets and fell into a deep sleep face down and snuggled into the pillows.


	24. Chapter 24

Three days had passed since the return to Greenwood and Thranduil had just woken. It was about midday and he felt remarkably good and rested. In celebration of a battlefield victory it was common practice to hold a celebration. It was debatable if what had occurred was a victory or not but since the town had been liberated and reestablished in full Thranduil figured it was close enough to a victory to warrant a celebration. It had been a full year since they had left for the north what with all the time spent healing and trip back to Greenwood so perhaps the celebration was coming a bit late but it mattered not. As the Elven King floated from his chambers he told a few of the bustling servants to make preparations. They were all to delighted to do so. His father, Oropher, had been rather flamboyant with his celebrations and Thranduil would be no different. He truly enjoyed the festivities that his father would often indulge Greenwood in and saw no reason to change how things were done. Everyone who wished to attend could and there would be starlight, wine, music, decadent food, and good company aplenty. The only thing that bothered Thranduil was the matter of the raven haired elf. Would he not want to attend? Would he accept Thranduil's invitation? Did he have anything to wear? Was he even still in Greenwood? Was it possible that he didn't want to see Thranduil? Shaking his head and with a determine stride and all the excitement of a youth asking their crush to attend an annual festival the starlight haired elf king set off to Himelon's room.

He Thranduil had arrived to the set of strong oak doors carved to depict the journey of the elves to Middle Earth he was stuck by both the irony of the fact that the first elf to come to Middle Earth lay beyond and also by a fear. The fear that Himelon no longer resided inside to room and had snuck off while his King slept. For a moment Thranduil couldn't bring himself to knock. It was as if his hands were weighed down by anchors. It wasn't until he heard a soft rustling inside to room that he knocked. Silence is what Thranduil was met with. Knowing that someone was inside the starlight haired elf slowly pushed the door open and entered the room. It was freezing cold despite the general outside temperature being warm. The Elven King had come to know, by speaking with Elrond, that Himelon always felt outwardly cold. He was older that any other elves in Middle Earth and had abilities that seemed to revolve around ice and shadow. Letting out a soft chuckle Thranduil glided over to the bed and peered at the sleeping elf.

Himelon's raven hair was strewn about the pillows while his face was obscured by the large body pillow he was cuddling. He wore no shirt and the blankets hid whether or not he wore trousers. The muscles in his back and shoulders contracted and relaxed as Himelon's hands gripped at the pillow and then loosened again. The raven haired elf cooed and muttered softly in his sleep. Thranduil felt a small blush slip across his face as he pondered what kind of pleasant dream the raven haired elf might be having. For a moment he considered leaving and not disturbing Himelon. Decidedly he did not leave. Instead the starlight haired male gently brushed his hand along the sleeping elf's neck and shoulders.

"Time to wake pen tithen." Thranduil felt slightly odd calling the sleeping elf "little" and yet he was using it as a sweet term rather than identifier. Perhaps it was not that odd at all. He had expected the other male to stir and wake but what he got was a soft gasp and Himelon rolling towards him. To keep the raven haired elf from rolling off the bed the Elven King sat down abruptly as Himelon curled around him muttering softly. Yet again Thranduil tried to wake him by stroking the raven haired elf's shoulder all the while blushing softly. The touch was significantly more successful in waking Himelon but what he got in return was a sharp blush and a startled Himelon. The starlight haired king chuckled softly as the raven haired elf blushed and scuttled away from him and ultimately slid right off the other side of the bed.

"How long have you been there?" the raven haired elf was no doubt embarrassed to wake and find Thranduil watching him sleep. It wasn't exactly something that happened often and in truth Himelon rather liked the idea but it was still startling.

"Perhaps a minute," Thranduil offered an amused smile as he slid around the bed to help the raven haired elf back to his feet, "You were sighing in your sleep. Having a good dream?" The question was accented with a slight tilt of Thranduil's head. As Himelon rose to his feet the blonde took note of how Himelon's hand rested a little too long in his own. The rather cute response and lingering touch set Thranduil's mind partially at ease. The raven haired elf did not hate him and that boosted the chances that Himelon would accept his invitation. Ordinarily Thranduil wouldn't have been worried about such things. He was King. There was practically no one who would reject and invitation to a celebration from him. And yet he knew that Himelon could have potential to be that one elf in all of Middle Earth to say no. As he watched Himelon glide effortlessly around the room and slide on the neatly folded silver shirt sitting by the window he gathered his courage to make his inquiry.

"There is going to be a celebration tonight," Thranduil began as he closed the gap between himself and the raven haired elf, "Will you attend as my guest?" The question had been accented with slender fingers running gently through raven hair as Thranduil helped Himelon slip on the black shirt he was truly never without.

"I don't usually go to such things," Himelon sighed averting his gaze to the floor and moving away from the Elven King's hand, "There's always too many people." Himelon caught the slightly disappointed look on Thranduil's face before the starlight haired male's ordinarily stony expression returned. The split second that it had taken Himelon to see the other's face had been all that was necessary to convince him to continue.

"However," the raven haired elf sighed and smiled softly at Thranduil who had begun to take his leave, "I cannot exactly refuse the Great Elven King now could I?" The smile that had worked its way across Himelon's face lit up Thranduil's own as he moved back over to the other male.

"Excellent," Thranduil practically purred as he ushered Himelon out the door with a few gentle pushes, "You will need something suitable to wear then." The all too proud smile that had situated itself on Thranduil's face only made Himelon laugh. He looked like a combination of an elfling that was all too proud of catching a frog and a youth all too eager to impress their date. That was in essence what Thranduil was doing by taking Himelon shopping. He was trying to impress him. Not that such a thing was even necessary. Yet Himelon found it rather nice and kind of cute that the starlight haired male would want to be old-fashioned about courting him. Himelon was more surprised than anything that the King of the elves would even consider courting him. None the less here they were. Thranduil was proudly escorting Himelon down to the main markets of the courtyard to get him a "suitable" outfit for the celebration. Part of the raven haired elf was excited about it while the rest of him was dreading the price tag. It had been ages since he had worn anything kingly or truly regal. The last time he dawned such a thing was back in Valinor if you weren't counting the battle with his mithril armor.


	25. Chapter 25

As Thranduil led Himelon through the marketplace it became ever more obvious that the starlight haired king had little to no interest in entertaining the idea of shopping at one of the more common establishments. A few times Himelon had pointed out a seamstress or ellon who he thought had exceedingly elegant wares but each time Thranduil had led him away assuring the other that there were much better garments yet to be seen. The further in they went the closer Thranduil seemed to be walking and the more stares seemed to be directed at them. A few stares were sweet and almost amused while others were straight up hostile. The attention they seemed to be attracting was making the raven haired elf exceedingly nervous. Himelon had scrunched in on himself as he walked and was doing everything he could to stay hidden in the crowd. Thranduil had been getting closer because he too had been noticing the looks. Granted he was rather used to them by now. Ever since he was young his people seemed to believe that anyone at all he walked with was a lover. This led to inordinately large amounts of jealousy that seemed to erupt whenever he walked near someone. Granted this case was different. The starlight haired King had full intention of courting the other. That was the very reason he tried to gather Himelon ever closer to himself. Yet the raven haired elf seemed to want nothing to do with it and after a while Thranduil had completely lost track of where Himelon had gone. The Elven King spun around a few times trying to locate his guest to no avail. Despite all logic that should have existed in his mind Thranduil found himself being truly frightened. He was afraid that he had lost the other. This was rather silly seeing has how there weren't many placed to go in the marketplace, but still Thranduil found himself cutting quickly through the crowd trying to hide his panic as he searched for the other.

Himelon had snuck away from the main crowd while Thranduil had set his gaze to glaring down a few elleths who had no been sending the friendliest of stares at Himelon. The raven haired elf had snuck off into the shadows behind a fruit cart. It was a place that was rather out of the traffic path and it looked to have some very ripe apples. In truth Himelon had given very little thought to how Thranduil might react if he found him missing. This was in part because he thought the Elven King had seen where he slunk off to and partially because he believe his King to be more level-headed than some others. He assumed, wrongly, that Thranduil would remain calm and find him in due time should he not have seen where he went. All too soon though Himelon saw the error in his assumption. Shortly after paying the fruit vendor with some Athelas he had still with him Himelon turned to see Thranduil moving a little too quickly through the stands and turning his head a little too much. To most it might have seemed as if the starlight haired king was simply looking for something but Himelon, for all his social shortcomings, knew panic when he saw it. It was an all too familiar emotion and he had seen it one to many times among the many races of Middle Earth.

"Thranduil!" the raven haired elf called with a whistle as he moved closer to the starlight haired male, "Got you an apple!" A small smile spread over the raven haired elf's face at the thought that Thranduil was worried. He truly thought the Elven King above such things as worrying over where someone had gone. No matter how great his feelings toward said individual may have been. When Thranduil caught sight of the other jogging toward him with a half eaten apple in one hand and another in the other he felt a wave of relief wash over him and practically ran over to the other. Without thinking Thranduil pulled the raven haired elf into a tight embrace sighing audibly as he felt the other lean softly into him.

"Sorry," Himelon muttered against Thranduil's shoulder as he returned the embrace as best he could with apples in each hand, "I thought you'd seen where I went." As Thranduil released the embrace Himelon tilted his head up slightly to meet the other's gaze while offering a soft smile and an apple.

"Why did you even sneak off?" the starlight haired king's question had come off more as a demand as he took the offering and furrowed his brow, "Am I that terrible that you cannot stand to be near me?" As the question left his lips Thranduil felt his face soften into a slight grimace and turned his eyes away from the other. Perhaps that was why Himelon had snuck off. Perhaps he truly couldn't stand to be near him and was trying to be polite. As Thranduil felt the soft sting of tears in his eyes he also felt a soft and gently hand take a hold of the side of his face. It wasn't a tight or demanding grip but there was enough to indicate that Himelon was trying to get him to look back at him.

"Of course not," Himelon sighed as he brought the other back to look at him and wiped away the collecting tears in the starlight haired elf's eyes, "I just got really uncomfortable with all the stares and went to find a place to hide." It was the truth and Thranduil knew it by the sincerity in Himelon's tone and eyes.

"You shouldn't be so skittish," Thranduil sighed gently as he leaned into the other's touch, "No one would dare harm you with me here." Thranduil knew his people and thought such a thing would have been self-evident. Sure they might glare and stare but nobody would actually do anything.

"I don't doubt it," the raven haired elf's reply came with a distant look back at the crowd, "but Silvan elves aren't exactly known for their wisdom and gentle nature. What is there to stop one of them from doing something when you're not there?" It had been a simple inquiry. Himelon had just been thinking aloud and hadn't really meant anything by it but the hurt expression on Thranduil's face spoke volumes on how he had taken it.

"Just like when I wasn't there with the dragon," the words had left Thranduil's lips before his mind could correct him and before he could internalize the thought. He saw Himelon physically recoil and subconsciously glace at his left arm. The starlight haired elf realized he shouldn't have said anything. He shouldn't have mentioned it.

"Dragons are dragons," Himelon began gently returning his gaze to the other, "You would have died had you taken the fire. Don't feel guilty over something that was my doing." Thranduil softened his gaze as he once again reached for the other to hold close. He knew that he shouldn't feel guilty but he did. All he could do was offer a smile and a nod as Himelon let the Elven King wind an arm around his waist and hold him close.

"Don't you want to try the apple?" after a time of silence it was Himelon who had broken it with the question. Thranduil had jumped slightly as he was abruptly pulled from his thought by the other's voice. Glancing down at his other hand Thranduil let out a soft laugh. He'd forgotten he was even holding the red piece of fruit.

"Of course," the starlight haired king chuckled as he took a bite and let a soft smile slip over his face, "I'd almost forgotten the whole reason I brought you here too." The apple was delicious and seeing the small smile slip over the raven haired elf's lips as he took a bite of the fruit brought back his good mood. He was going to dress the other in the most beautiful thing he could possibly find and would then blatantly show Himelon off at the celebration. After tonight everyone would know how to treat the raven haired elf and, if all went well, Himelon would feel very comfortable and loved.

"Please don't ask me to put on anything shiny," Himelon groaned softly as he found himself being pulled along by the starlight haired elf, "I don't particularly want to look like a woman." Thranduil had done little to suppress the heart felt laughter that escaped his throat at the mental image of the raven haired elf in a shining silver dress with a sparkly blue corset.

"I won't," the Elven King smiled sweetly back at the other, "You have all the say in what you will wear. I'll make suggestions but feel free to say if you wouldn't feel comfortable wearing it." Himelon smiled gently and nodded. He was rather relieved that Thranduil wasn't going to make him wear something he didn't particularly want to.

After a few more minutes of walking and a few more stops at some stands selling sweets Thranduil and Himelon made it to their destination. It was a small building with ornate silver and gold woven wood for a door and the deep greens and grays of the stone and plants from which it was made gave it the appearance of having simply grown out of the ground. Unlike the other stores that had their wares out on display this particular business simply had the door cracked open and a welcome sign placed on the doorstep.

"Here?" Himelon questioned with a quirk of an eyebrow and a tilt of his head. He thought many of the other places had nice outfits and there was nothing here to survey. At least not on the outside. Needless to say the raven haired elf was rather confused as to why Thranduil would come here.

"The tailor only does work for the royal family," Thranduil explained with a soft grin while nudging the other inside, "I'm certain there's something here you'd look stunning in. And if not he can make something for you." The last statement set Himelon on edge. For a little bit of the time he hadn't been thinking about it but he sure was now. Not only might some random elf had to see him barely clothed, if clothed at all, but there was no way such a garment would be anything less that ridiculously expensive.

"There were lots of beautiful outfits back at some of the other stores," Himelon protested softly while squirming around a bit as Thranduil ushered him inside, "I bet they'd be a whole lot cheaper too!" The starlight haired King let out a soft chuckle as he ran a hand gently down the other's jaw line. Thranduil found it to be very cute and sweet that Himelon cared so much about the cost.

"You are worth every coin," Thranduil cooed softly brushing his hand through raven locks, "I'll not have you wear anything of lower quality than what I would wish to wear." After a minute or two of stroking the raven haired elf face and planting a few soft kisses on his forehead and cheeks Thranduil finally got him to agree. With a dark blush and a nod Himelon had agreed to let Thranduil take him to the tailor. In truth he'd always be worried about the price but he wouldn't protest since it seemed as though he truly would get nowhere with the other male.


	26. Chapter 26

For a good 30 minutes Himelon had just looked around and it was obvious that the shop keeper was nervous. Not that the raven haired elf was looking but that there would be nothing of interest and the shop keeper feared he might bear that wrath. In truth he had only heard rumors about King Thranduil but they were enough to put him on edge. As a prince the starlight haired elf had been distant and rather introverted with a temper to match his father's. Calm most of the time but fully capable of snapping and lashing out violently. When the two had first entered Thranduil had seemed rather calm and amused but as time had gone on the King's face had changed and furrowed. The shop keeper couldn't exactly tell if it was concern or annoyance but neither would likely end well. Usually after about ten minutes people know what they would like to try on and what they would not but it had been thirty minutes and the raven haired elf was still looking. Thranduil was a bit confused as to why Himelon had said nothing but he was also a little peeved that the shop keeper didn't seem to have very many darker outfits. He had notified him before they came that Himelon preferred darker shades. In all reality Himelon had been looking at the prices as well as the outfits. He knew Thranduil had told him not to think about it but he couldn't help but think about it ever more acutely as he looked over the extravagant outfits. In time the raven haired elf finally accepted that everything was expensive and there was no way around it. Letting out a shaky sigh Himelon finally reached out a hand to touch one of the displayed outfits.

"Your work is beautiful," Himelon spoke so softly that the shop keeper had barely even heard it, "but is there a way to make a variant of the outfit with darker fabric perhaps?" Himelon felt awkward asking such a thing. Asking others to do things they hadn't done just because he may like it was not something that he had done in a very long time. The raven haired elf had always been conscious of the feelings of others and had never asked such questions unless it was necessary even before coming to Middle Earth. It made him feel bad to ask someone to do extra work when the existing work was already so well done. None the less he had asked. Himelon wasn't a fan of large amounts of silver, no matter how beautiful it may be, and thought the shining color was better used as an accent rather than the main focus. No sooner had the soft question left the raven haired elf's lips had the shop keeper glided over to the other.

"Of course my lord," the shop keepers flashed Himelon a soft grin to try and ease the tension as he gestured to the outfit Himelon currently had his hand resting on, "This one?" The particular outfit the raven haired elf was inquiring about was a floor length silver robe with a high collar and sea green trim. Embroidered into it were patterns of greens ranging from dark to light as it wove across that outfit giving the illusion of an over-coat.

"Y-yes please," the raven haired elf suppressed the nervous laugh building in the back of his throat. He couldn't remember the last time someone had called him "lord" and practically feeling Thranduil glaring down the shop keeper for whatever reason didn't help much of anything.

"How would you like it modified?" Yet again the shop keeper was smiling all the while keeping an eye on the Elven King as he slowly stalked across the room. The shop keeper had abruptly put space between himself and Himelon when had noticed the even more sudden change in the King's mood. To gesture to the outfit said shop keeper had found himself nearly touching the raven haired male and that had seemed to spark something less than pleasant in Thranduil.

"Maybe a midnight blue or black base for the robe," Himelon began gently picturing it in his head all the while wondering why the starlight haired king had suddenly felt the need to stand as close to him as physically possible without making contact, "With the trim as silver and the embroidery potentially be silver and light blues? If it's not too much trouble of course." The last had been added because the more Himelon imagined it the more difficult it seemed to be. The shop keeper seemed to already be on edge because of the way Thranduil kept glaring at him and the raven haired elf didn't want to add any more stress to the tailor's day.

"Of course," the tailor nodded and scuttled off into the depths of his shop for a moment before returning with a tape measure and mina bird in hand, "I have a very deep blue fabric, it's almost black, and I'll need to get some measurements. As long as that's alright with you." The last part had been spoken in the general direction of Himelon while the tailor's eyes had been looking at Thranduil. When the King gave no objection and took a few steps back to allow Himelon some room to mover the shop keeper turned his gaze back to the raven haired elf.

"Deep blue sounds nice," Himelon offered a gentle smile before his own expression contorted slightly into apprehension and what seemed to be embarrassment, "Sure. If it has to be done it has to be done." With a nod and gently gesture the tailor ushered Himelon into the back where there was a bit more privacy.

"All I need are the chest, neck, and waist measurements," the tailor continued with an ever more genuine grin, "If you could just remove your tunic please." The raven haired elf blushed softly but complied. After about thirty seconds of watching the raven haired elf struggle to get the silver under-tunic off the tailor lent a helping hand.

"Sorry," Himelon sighed as the shop keeper went about taking the proper measurements, "My left side hasn't been very cooperative lately." A soft chuckle escaped the raven haired elf's lips as he thought about the way that had been phrased.

"Perhaps you should see a healer," the tailor offered gently helping Himelon get the silver tunic back on, "You might have partially dislocated your shoulder or torn something." The shop keepers intentions were good but the sigh and distant look in the other's eyes set the tailor feeling uneasy.

"It's not the type of thing that can be fixed," Himelon gently tried to skirt around the question as to why not, "Elrond said so himself. Just have to deal with it." The sudden look of shock and fear on the tailor's face set Himelon quirking his head to the side.

"I apologize," the tailor bowed rather deeply, "You must have been one of the soldiers who shielded the King. Please forgive my insensitivity." The tailor had yet to break the bow and look up even as Himelon situated the black over-shirt back in place.

"What insensitivity?" The raven haired elf practically pull the other from the bow to look at him normally, "You were just making a kind offer to someone you thought might need a healer." No sooner had the tailor's gentle smile returned that the door separating them from the main store was pushed open. In the doorway stood Thranduil with something akin to worry on his face. Said expression seemed to be mixed with confusion and annoyance.

"Measurements don't take this long." the statement had been accentuated with the Elven King's icy stare being fixed on the tailor. From the way he was looking at said elf one might have thought a crime had just occurred.

"My shirt got caught on my left arm," Himelon cut off anything that the tailor would have to say rather sharply, "It took a while because of that. And why do you glare so at your own tailor? Coming in here was your idea after all." Thranduil had noticeably flinched when Himelon had mentioned his left side giving him some trouble. His gaze had softened and the question as to why he glared at the tailor partially confused him. He felt jealousy when he had seen the tailor stand so close to the raven haired elf and it had not gone away since. He felt protective and possessive and annoyed that Himelon had been helped by said tailor. The raven haired elf was correct. This was his idea so why did it bother him so much? It was illogical and even Thranduil couldn't explain why he felt this way. He just did.

"I was concerned," Thranduil's voice had been cold and distant yet somehow gentle, "that something bad had transpired." It was mostly the truth. As more time had elapsed Thranduil had found himself worrying and thinking about all the things that could occur as the result of asking someone to remove and article of clothing or two. As his illogical, and creative, mind was fed by his newly roused wave of protectiveness the starlight haired elf had found himself moving quickly inside to be near Himelon. It bothered him that such silly notions and innocent context could get to him like that but none the less it had.

"And you told me not to be skittish," the raven haired elf shook his head slightly as it occurred to him that Thranduil might have been acting out of jealousy. The thing the interested and surprised the shop keeper the most was how Himelon was talking to King Thranduil currently. The raven haired elf spoke to the king as if they were equals and Thranduil was tolerating it. As odd as the tailor found it he also felt a smile slip over his face. The reason for his King's annoyance seemed rather clear as he thought about it. Without realizing it the tailor had crossed a line didn't even know was there and had succeeded in setting off the starlight haired king's protective instincts. As he watched them leave, Thranduil once again with his arm around Himelon's waist, he got the sense that the festival was likely going to be very interesting.


	27. Chapter 27

Everything was set in place and ready. The whole of the palace, inside and out, had been decorated in glowing flowers and strings of starlight lanterns. The ordinarily dramatic, darker reaches now glowed in silvery light while the lighter areas shone like small silver suns. The deep greens of the plants surrounding the courtyards had taken to shining in brighter hues with hints of the pale glow. Intermixed with the starlight lanterns were flowers of all hues ranging from pale gold of rich violet. Each and every one of the flowers glowed brilliantly of their hues and sent striking contrasts in the silver bathed halls. The three main fountains of Greenwood's halls flowed freely with rich, sweet wine and there were plenty of small, medium, and large tables adorned with a seemingly endless variety of foods. On a few of said tables were other drinks that seemed to glow blue and green along with strategically placed vials of starlight. In its ordinary state the place might have seemed closed off in some areas but now every inch of it seemed to flow into a seamless scene. From the farthest reaches of the outer courtyards to the very core of the lavish structure everything was connected. There were plush seats and a few that might have even been small beds scattered throughout. These resting places were cherry wood blended with sturdy oak and fragrant cedar and adorned with soft cushions and silk sheets and covers. Some were deep red while others were soft muted blues and every color in between. Soft lilting music drifted through the whole of the forest as the sun had set and day gave way to night. The whole of Greenwood seemed to be buzzing with life and energy. Even the day-dwelling forest creatures did not find sleep as they too began to gravitate toward the palace. The sun had set not even an hour ago and there were already many elves and animals enjoying the festivities.

Thranduil himself had been stolen away by a few servants who were fusing over making him look his best shortly after returning from the market. Likewise a few other fusing servants had tried to whisk Himelon away and just thinking about the way the raven haired elf jumped and tried to dodge them threatened to bring a soft laugh from the starlight haired King's lips. Thranduil had known that Himelon would not escape the fusing servants. When they set their mind to doing something they get it done. The starlight haired elf had learned that long ago and just stopped resisting. In truth the fusing servant still hadn't let Thranduil go just yet. A young elleth with shoulder-length pale brown hair was obsessing over how to best braid Thranduil's hair so that it looked best with his crown while an ellon with snowy hair that just touched the ground was continuing to present the starlight haired king with different outfits and then second guessing himself and insisting that Thranduil would like the next one even more. An amused smile slipped over Thranduil's face as he thought of two things. The first being how long it always took his father to attend festivals and how said father would always complain that the servants would detain him for a thousand years before finally deciding that his hair looked better braided than loose. The second was how he imagined Himelon would be reacting to all of the attention he was no doubt getting. Overall Thranduil found it amusing that the servants were so fussy in the first place. In truth he always thought he looked fine for whatever occasion but he never could bring himself to dismiss his servants when they were trying to help him get ready.

Meanwhile down the hall a pair of elleths with strawberry blonde hair had just managed to get Himelon out of the bath. For nearly an hour after returning from the market Himelon had been trying to tell the two women that he was fine and didn't need any help. They didn't seem to care and kept trying, ever so respectfully mind you, to convince the raven haired male to strip and let them help him bathe. After a good long while of resisting and blushing Himelon got the elleths to at least avert their gaze while he got into the bathing pool. They seemed to have little to no regard for the fact that Himelon was feeling ever more uncomfortable when they started cleaning him however. He was going to do it himself but they insisted. The two of them practically had to drag him out of the bathing pool so that he could be dressed and were trying to get the raven haired elf to stand still or sit down so that they could remove the towel he'd taken refuge behind and dress him properly. It was to this scene of Himelon resisting even the softest of touches from the elleths and hopping around like a frightened cat that Thranduil had walked in on. From outside of the door Thranduil had heard the rather forceful protests of the raven haired male accompanied by the gentle, pleading voices of the two servants trying to help his dress.

"Can you two at least turn around so I can put trousers on!" Himelon had exclaimed as he scuttled behind the main headboard of the large bed. He had tried hiding behind most other items in the room to no avail so all that was left was the bed. Seeing the two elleths trying ever so hard to remove Himelon from his hiding place succeeded in drawing a deep laughter from Thranduil. The result was all eyes being directed at the starlight haired king. The elleths knelt while Himelon turned several new shades of red before sinking further into his hiding place.

"You two should leave," the words had flowed fluidly from Thranduil's lips as cold water flows over polished stone, "The festivities have already begun." The two elleths promptly obeyed and Thranduil found himself gliding across the room and pulling the raven haired elf free from his hiding place. Gently he set the other male down on the bed and went to retrieve the bundle of clothing from the dresser on which it had been set.

"I can do it." the raven haired male objected and began to stand but was cut off by a wave of the Elven King's hand. Thranduil's movements were fluid and graceful as he tossed Himelon's black trousers over to him. The raven haired elf was grateful for the fabric and quickly slipped it on.

"A King shouldn't be dressing another," Himelon sighed as Thranduil began to unfold the long tunic that had been brought up from the tailor while the raven haired elf had been in the bath, "He should be dressed by someone." At least that's what Himelon had heard and observed. Elrond and Celeborn seemed to enjoy it while human rulers certainly insisted on it.

"Who do you think I just escaped from?" Thranduil's statement had been accented with a heart felt chuckle as he moved back across the room and motioned for the other to stand, "Since you didn't like the servants dressing you, I'm doing it." The gentle and sincere smile that worked its way across Thranduil's face as he helped Himelon get his left arm in the garment was contagious.

"They were women," the blush that worked its way across Himelon's face as he spoke only fueled the Elven King's smile, "It was embarrassing the way they were fussing and they were women! They should be dressing other women if they must do that." The raven haired elf's face had contorted into somewhat of a grimace as he felt a whole new wave of embarrassment wash over him.

"I will make certain to send males next time," Thranduil had smiled softly turning Himelon's face back to look at him as he secured a large sapphire clasp to hold the tunic shut, "All done. Now for the hair…" Himelon had looked confused and almost as if he were about to protest when Thranduil mentioned the hair. His hair was one thing Himelon was not about to let anyone touch. He didn't know what it was exactly but he hated other people doing his hair. Running fingers through it was fine if it was Thranduil but not styling it.

"Hair's off limits." The statement had been sharp and accentuated by Himelon moving sharply away from the starlight haired king, "I'll do it." Thranduil had tilted his head softly to the side but said nothing. Instead he watched the other skillfully section his hair off. No sooner had Himelon's hair been sectioned that he reached a hand out the window and began singing a soft sweet melody. Thranduil himself had been transfixed by the sound and fell even more into a state of awe when he saw wisps of moon and starlight weaving flawlessly into shining strands that had beaded gems within them collect in Himelon's hand. From there the raven haired elf had proceeded to weave them seamlessly into his hair. The overall effect was that bits of Himelon's hair were themselves made of starlight and moonlight.

"This one's for you," a small smile had worked its way over the raven haired elf's face as he approached the starlight haired king and attached a single woven strand of moonlight, with a glowing gem of starlight about the size of a large river stone on the end, around Thranduil's neck. Still blinking in disbelief Thranduil gently ran his fingers over the new found weight around his neck.

"It's perfect…" Thranduil had trailed off when his eyes found Himelon gently staring at him with something akin to amusement or contentment spread over his face. This was the first time since Thranduil had entered that the raven haired elf had gotten a good look at him. The Elven King was a regal as always. His rings were ever present and so was his crown. Where one might have expected braids to be Thranduil's hair hung straight but, much like his crown, was adorned with red berries and green leaves woven into it. His outfit was a single piece silver robe that trailed about a foot behind him and was embroidered with striking forest greens. It was held closed with his usual woven mithril broach and he wore no shoes. In addition now there was the pendant Himelon had just given him which hung perfectly just below the broach. From Himelon's particular angle the broach and pendent seemed to be one piece. In accent to the silver robe Thranduil had drape a piece of violet fabric around his shoulders that looped around his back so as to be better kept in place. The outfit as a whole seemed to make his icy blue eyes and creamy skin glow.

"You're perfect." the statement had slipped from Himelon's lips before his mind could register it. As soon as Himelon had heard his own words a deep blush spread like wildfire over his features and Himelon took to looking down and fidgeting with the mithril circlet on his head while muttering to himself about how stupid he was to say that out loud. Thranduil on the other hand looked oddly amused and pleased. He was used to people staring at him and even blatantly fantasizing about him but no one had ever called him perfect. Beautiful, majestic, or stunning yes. But not ever perfect. A slight blush tinted Thranduil's own cheeks at the compliment and his hands, seemingly of their own accord, moved gently and slowly to turn Himelon's face back to his own. As their eyes met and Thranduil saw a soft reflection of apprehension in the other male he realized what he was doing and with a soft, genuine smile he closed the gap and softly pressed his lips against Himelon's own. For a moment the raven haired elf went rigid and Thranduil feared he'd frightened the other but them Himelon slowly began to melt into Thranduil's embrace and gently, tentatively, kissed back. As the Elven King felt the raven haired males smaller, soft hands grab onto the back of his shoulders he would have been perfectly agreeable to go wherever the kiss may have led. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on who you may ask, as knock on the door is what broke the kiss. Letting a satisfied smile slip over his face Thranduil guided the other male out the door toward the festivities. No doubt people were wondering where they were. As suspected the knock belonged to an anxious servant who had come looking for Thranduil. Dismissing the servant Thranduil wrapped his arm securely around Himelon's waist and led the was down through the halls to the main chamber where most of the celebration was happening.


	28. Chapter 28

As they navigated through the halls of Greenwood the Great Himelon was rather thankful for Thranduil's grip on him. More than once the raven haired elf had nearly tripped and with his mind swimming as it was Himelon was finding it near impossible to concentrate on where he was going. The kiss had woven its way into Himelon's mind and was not letting go. When he should have been watching where he was walking the raven haired elf found his mind replaying said kiss over and over again. It was only when Thranduil abruptly stopped walking and momentarily tightened his grip on the other that Himelon snapped out of it.

"Yes?" slightly startled the raven haired elf blinked several times while staring at the starlight haired king's icy eyes. When they'd stopped Himelon had quickly caught sight of Thranduil staring at him with an odd expression. In truth the raven haired elf knew he'd been somehow misunderstood or misread but he couldn't quite fathom how that would have been.

"You are displeased with my actions earlier." Thranduil had spoken softly and couldn't quite meet the other's pale gaze. It was the only reason Thranduil could think of for the other's silence. Himelon had not said a word since they left the room and had a vacant stare on his face the whole walk through. It seemed as if the raven haired elf's body moved but it's owner was not present. The Elven King had observed such a thing only a few times and none of the reasons were good. As he had thought over why they other would be suddenly so distant he could only assume that he had crossed a line and done something he never should have done when they had kissed.

"No," the raven haired elf's response had been drawn out as his eyes searched out something other than Thranduil's face, "I am…confused by it if anything." It was truth. Himelon knew his mind wouldn't stop replaying it and there was an oddly pleasant feeling associated with the pressing of their lips together but in truth he didn't really know why. He liked it and yet there was something about the kiss that made he feel terrible. It was almost like guilt but not exactly. Fear was a better word but that still wasn't exactly right either.

"You look distressed." Thranduil's words had been what filled in the gap of what Himelon had been thinking. Distress. That's what the other feeling was. As Himelon's pale blue eyes set themselves back on the starlight haired male the feeling was multiplied exponentially. The worst part about it was that Himelon didn't know why. He could clearly see the hurt and confusion in Thranduil's eyes and yet he couldn't bring himself to deny that he was distressed. And so he nodded confirmation and let his own eyes fall to the ground. Now he felt embarrassed and angry at himself. Most anyone, at least he was sure of this, would have given anything to have been kissed by their King and all the raven haired elf felt was distressed about it and delighted at the same time.

"I just don't know what to make of it," Despite his better judgment Himelon decided to try and explain why he felt distressed, "I'm not used to physical contact currently. Let alone affection. It's not you. I just didn't expect…"

"Me to be affectionate?" Thranduil knew now that he had overstepped a boundary and was silently berating himself for it. He should have known better than that. Himelon had told him and shown him more than once that he was not comfortable with people or prolonged contact. And yet he'd disregarded that and kissed the raven haired male without asking permission. Yet again something he had been taught when he grew of courting age as a Prince. No matter what the situation one must always ask permission.

"No. I didn't." while on the honest kick Himelon decided it was just best to say it , "To be pushed or ignored maybe. But not kissed. I do like you. A lot. I just don't know what is meant by it all." There had been no cruelty or malice in the raven haired elf's words. He hadn't snapped or really put much of any emotion into his words really. He'd just said what was on his mind.

"I will show you then," Thranduil made a small smile to accent his words as he turned to look the other in the eye, "No matter how long it may take. I'm patient. I can wait." The way Thranduil had spoken sent yet another blush blazing across Himelon's cheeks. Now that was something he truly didn't know what to think about. What did Thranduil mean by "I'll show you then."? Did Himelon just shatter the fragile friendship he'd just established with the other? Did he just wreck every opportunity to get any closer to Thranduil? As his head swam with all his sudden worries Himelon felt Thranduil's hand slip from his waist to his hand to hold it gently and elegantly.

"I will start," Thranduil purred leaning it so that his lips were just a hair's breath away from the tip of Himelon's ear, "by courting you properly and showing you how to enjoy the festivities of Greenwood. Shall we?" As Himelon's face heated up once again all he could really manage was a nod for he did not trust his voice. Then with an ever so gentle smile a few steps forward Thranduil led himself and his guest around the corner and straight into the main courtyard where all eyes fixed themselves upon the two new comers.


	29. Chapter 29

As they rounded the corner into the crowd Thranduil knew he'd be leading. Feeling Himelon pull backward when everyone had looked at them had been rather disconcerting. For a moment the Elven King feared Himelon would slip out of his grasp and leave all together but with a little coaxing Thranduil had managed to convince the raven haired elf to take a few steps forward. As they had moved across the chamber there had been a few bold enough to mutter and more than a few glares. In truth Thranduil was grateful Himelon didn't scuttle off to a corner to hide like he'd done in the market. It was, however, less than pleasing to see the way the raven haired elf looked down rather than up. On a few occasions Himelon had looked up and returned a few glares, but for the most part he kept his eyes down. The progress across the room was slow but in time Thranduil led Himelon through the crowd and over to one of the more elegantly furnished lounge sofas.

"You don't need to look down," Thranduil cooed softly stroking the other's hair, "They are beneath you. Not the other way around. They only mutter and glare out of jealousy." A small grin wormed it's way over Himelon's features as he looked up as the starlight haired male. A bit confused by the sudden change of expression Thranduil tilted his head to the side a little.

"Elrond once told me something like that," Himelon chuckled slightly as his eyes wandered over to crowd which had now begun to go about their business again, "He said 'A king should always keep his head up when those beneath him are looking'." Thranduil was even more confused now. Not just by what Himelon had just said but by said male's sudden movement to one of the nearby tables. Naturally the starlight haired King followed and was quick to take up the lead again.

"You are friends with Elrond then?" The words had left Thranduil's lips as he spotted what Himelon was going for, "And you like then wine." Thranduil's slender hands had gotten to the goblets first and before Himelon could respond he had already deposited one in the hands of the raven haired elf. A little amused at Thranduil's actions Himelon let out a chuckle as he took a long drink from the golden goblet.

"He was once like a son to me," Himelon let the warmth of the wine spread through him and ground his mind, "And who doesn't like the wine? It is eerily similar to the wines of Valinor is it not?" There it was again. The confidence that Thranduil had glimpsed in the throne room when they'd first spoken. It seemed to come and go with the circumstances which left Thranduil wondering if perhaps Himelon wasn't hiding something. Or maybe even experiencing an odd version of depression. Most elves who suffer from it would simply grow pale, cold, and apathetic until they either left or faded. But self isolation could be a manifestation of the condition and all the side effects of being isolated for so long could be an extension of depression. As usual Thranduil found himself lost in thought and oblivious to his surroundings. It was only when he felt a strong hand clasp his shoulder that he was drawn out of his thoughts. As his eyes darted around Thranduil became very aware that he was laying down. The next thing that he noticed was Himelon hovering by his head with a firm grip of his shoulder.

"Why am I laying down?" It was a natural question that left Thranduil's lips. Last he remembered he'd been standing and now he wasn't. Anyone would have been confused.

"Either you fell asleep standing up or you were very lost in thought," Himelon explained with a slight tilt of his head, "I thought it would be safer if you laid down rather than stood in the middle of the room." Thranduil blinked a few times as he sat up and sought out his wine. Now the starlight haired King was just embarrassed. Not only had he ignored his guest for goodness knows how long by spacing out like that, but it had likely looked less than proper to anyone who might have seen.

"I was just thinking," Thranduil's explanation was non-substantial but it seemed to be enough for the raven haired elf, "How long was I like that?" The question was accented with a slight blush and gritting of teeth. Thranduil hated to ask. Once he'd done that when he was younger and had been unresponsive for half a day.

"Long enough for me to start a fight between two elleths," Himelon half chuckled as he finished off another goblet of wine, "Something about who was prettier I think. I'm really bad at complimenting women apparently." The last statement had been followed by a soft chuckle from both Himelon and Thranduil. In truth Thranduil didn't have much trouble believing that. Himelon was socially awkward at best and very easy to misunderstand it seemed.

"It also seems you've drunk more wine," It was easy for Thranduil to pick up the sweet scent on the other's breath and the seemingly more relaxed demeanor seemed to confirm it.

"How else am I suppose to deal with an army of Silvan elves who glare at me like I'm a dwarf?" Another chuckle escaped Himelon's lips as he gently leaned against the sofa. The raven haired elf has seated himself on the floor and was resting slightly against Thranduil's left leg. Thranduil himself let a small laugh loose as he stood pulling the other up with him.

"What kind of host am I?" the starlight haired King announced with a slightly down turned gaze, "I haven't even asked you to dance." Thranduil had come to the conclusion that if left alone Himelon would likely drink the whole festival through and hide in a corner. The starlight haired male had felt it was his own fault for spacing out like that. He said that he'd show Himelon how to enjoy the celebration and he'd completely ignored him while wondering about the raven haired male's personality quirks. Even though Himelon seemed to protest the dancing Thranduil guided him toward the center of the room where there were many others dancing both alone and in pairs.

"You don't understand," Himelon began growing ever more distressed as Thranduil urged him along, "I don't remember how to dance! The only dances I ever knew are ancient anyway!" Thranduil's smile and gentle hands were all the coaxing the raven haired elf needed though. Despite his verbal complaints he was doing practically nothing to resist physically.

"Just let the music take you," the starlight haired King cooed as he pulled Himelon flush against him, "and follow my lead." Himelon had whimpered slightly and blushed darkly when Thranduil had pulled him close, but nothing more. As they both started to sway a bit Himelon did as instructed and just let Thranduil take over. As they glided around Thranduil felt Himelon relaxing more and more into him until the raven haired elf's head was resting contentedly on Thranduil's shoulder. His eyes were closed and for a moment Thranduil might have thought him to be sleeping if it wasn't for the soft humming to the tune of the music. After a time of dancing Thranduil gently moved them both outside into the main outer courtyard. Himelon seemed to be blissfully unaware seeing as how he was firmly attached to Thranduil's chest and shoulder. With a light chuckle the starlight haired male gently pulled the other away from himself.

"Did I wake you?" The playful question had slipped from Thranduil's lips with an amused grin at the way Himelon had let out a soft groan and blinked a few times as he was pulled away from the other's shoulder. To Thranduil it really did seem as though the raven haired male had been sleeping on him.

"No," Himelon replied with a sigh as he looked around at their change of location, " I was just really comfortable." The raven haired elf's reply had succeeded in drawing heart felt laugh from the other. It was something Thranduil seemed to find himself doing more and more as of late. Laughing. It was almost as if every little thing Himelon did or said was somehow amusing to him. In truth the sensation was new and a little troubling but overall pleasant.

"Walk with me," Thranduil's words were the border between demand an request. Himelon hesitated at first. He was unable to discern if going with Thranduil was safe or not, but ultimately followed. Deep into the night Thranduil and Himelon walked in the silver bathed forest. It shone brighter and seemed even more elegant than last Himelon had seen it at night. Thranduil had explained, seeing the other's confusion, that his forest lit up whenever he moved through it because it enjoyed his presence. As the time grew later and they walked deeper into the forest, the darker creatures seemed to become more a more prevalent. Thranduil had been more than prepared to kill a few of them that looked as if they might attack but was stopped by Himelon. Thranduil watched in awe and shock as the raven haired elf moved gingerly over to a snarling warg that had wandered into the outskirts of the forest and began petting it as if it were a common dog. The starlight haired elf watched on as the raven haired male smiled and hugged the creature tightly around the neck before speaking softly to it and sending it off out of the forest. In that moment Thranduil had felt very uneasy. He had only ever seen orcs and other black creatures tame wargs and touch them as Himelon had just done. It had brought back something that Thranduil had nearly forgotten. It had made him think about the shadow that lived in the depths of the other male's mind and that unnerved him. For a moment the Elven King feared something terrible might happen but all he saw was the hurt and confused expression of the other male as Thranduil glared at him.


	30. Chapter 30

"Have I done something wrong?" Himelon's inquiry was accented by a tilt of his head and few steps toward Thranduil, "Is it not better to send it home rather than kill it?" Thranduil himself had taken a few steps backward and darkened his glare as the raven haired elf moved forward. As he looked at the other male he saw neither the hurt on his face nor the way the moonlight seemed to bend around Himelon. All he could think of were the battlefields of Mordor and the orcs that rode those creatures. His hand sought out his sword which was not on his hip and the force of Thranduil's fierce glare had caused Himelon to take half a step backward.

"By what black magic did you speak to it?" Thranduil's question had been accented by his physical recoiling away from the other. The more Thranduil thought about the possibilities for how Himelon could have been so calm around the beast, the more he thought about the potential meanings of his hair. There was a black shade dwelling in the other's mind and his hair was as black as raven's feathers. Thranduil had initially assumed Himelon's hair color was a unique trait and nothing more but now he found himself wondering. He wondered if the raven hair could have a meaning like the Sindarin light hair. The lighter the hair the stronger the Sindar elf's light and connection to the Valar. Could the opposite also be applied to Sindar elves? The darker the hair the less light the elf had? That thought brought up the puzzle as to why Thranduil had dreamt of Himelon with his raven hair when the scene of the dream had been Valinor. Thranduil was confused and frightened as to how Himelon could have been so calm around the snarling warg and as to why he had even wanted to save it.

"By the same black magic our kin speak to horses!" Himelon's response had been snapped and forceful as he took another few steps forward, "Do you fear your Silvan subjects when they speak to wolves or deer? It is no different!" Himelon was annoyed now. Thranduil had practically accused him of using black speech to talk to the warg and the raven haired elf couldn't fathom why a woodland King would prefer to kill an animal if it could be persuaded to leave peacefully. Thranduil on the other hand was shock and startled by the raven haired male's sudden outburst. It was true that there was much evidence supporting the fact that Himelon would indeed not be a creature of shadow, but there was enough that Thranduil did not know or understand about the other to sow the seeds of doubt that had motivated his words and actions.

"How am I to be certain?" Thranduil's words came from his lips as a soft sigh while his fierce glare gave way to a softer more troubled expression, "How am I to be certain you did not command that creature the way orcs do?" Thranduil's concern was valid and his intentions were good. In the end he would protect his people even if it hurt himself or the ones he loved. It was his duty as king. What happened next was something Thranduil had never expected. He might have anticipated an argument or even a demand as to what he wanted from the other, but not this. Himelon's gaze had fallen and a soft sigh had left his lips as he rolled up his sleeves and grabbed a vine from a nearby briar patch and wrapped it tightly around his right arm.

"I tell you the truth," the raven haired elf spoke slowly and in a dialect of elvish forgotten to most but understood by all, "I did not speak to the warg by means of any dark force past, present, or yet to exist. Do you accept this truth?" With each word the briars had dug deeper and deeper into Himelon's arm until his moonlight skin was stained crimson and a small pool of blood had accumulated where his arm had been outstretched.

"Yes," Thranduil's reply had come as more of a breathy whisper than a confident reply. Thranduil knew as well as anyone that lying in that ancient tongue was impossible. The Elven King was both amazed and troubled by how Himelon knew such a dialect and disturbed that he had chosen to shed his own blood as proof on top of speaking in ancient elvish. One or the other would have been more than enough! Feeling a shiver run down his spine Thranduil continued to watch as Himelon removed the briars from his arm and let a gentle smile slip over his face as he moved back over to lean on Thranduil's shoulder again.

"Good," the raven haired elf nearly cooed as he nuzzled the starlight haired elf's shoulder, "Because I'm going to need you to take me to the healing chambers. I've forgotten where they are." Thranduil felt a small laugh building up in the back of his throat again. It was a terrible and yet sweet laugh to him. He felt relieved that Himelon hadn't used black magic and also disgusted at himself for even suspecting the one he loved would do something like that. Now Himelon was hurt and bleeding when Thranduil had brought him out here to show him his forest and so that they could gaze at the stars together.

"Then I will carry you," Thranduil's cooed words had been in sync with him scooping the raven haired elf up and moving rather quickly through the forest back to the main path. He successfully drew a surprised squeal from Himelon's lips and felt his own smile grow at feeling the raven haired male's arm wrap tightly around his neck.

"Don't you dare drop me," Himelon had half-seriously laughed as he buried his face into the crook of Thranduil's neck. A part of him really like being carried like this while another part was very embarrassed seeing as how he could have easily walked. None the less Himelon didn't complain. In truth the shocked and concerned expressions on the surprising number of elves still celebrating when they returned to the palace was infinitely more amusing than any reaction them walking in side by side might have gotten.


	31. Chapter 31

The journey to the healing chamber shad been swift as had the repair of the raven haired elf's arm. For a time Thranduil had simply been fussing over the other and it had taken insistence from both the healers and their patient that everything was in order before the starlight haired King had let the raven haired elf leave. In silence Thranduil had escorted Himelon back to his given chambers. In truth the silence had once again troubled Thranduil. Yet again the starlight haired King was worrying that something he'd done had ruined any chance he may have had with the other and oddly enough Himelon's thoughts had taken a turn in a very similar direction. Despite that Thranduil had resolved to court the other and that was what he was going to do even if he had tarnished the other's affections for him.


	32. Chapter 32

The season had shifted to springtime and Greenwood the Great was alive with new blossoms and many a creature frolicking in winter's thaw. The trees swayed softly in the breeze while birds sang sweetly to any who might listen. The aroma of lavender and tulips along with orange blossoms wafted throughout the whole of the forest while the gentle filtering of sunlight through the brilliant green leaves cast an emerald hue across everything beneath the trees. Himelon had barely had time to take note of the change before there was a soft rasp on the door. This was something the raven haired elf had come accustomed to as of late. Ever since coming back from the healers it had been like this. Every morning, just after he had awoken, there would be a soft knock on the door. Gliding over to the wonderfully adorned doors Himelon slowly peeled them open to reveal a single flower laying on the doorstep. No one was around and there was no trace that someone had just been there. This is how it had been going as well. Every day it was a new flower or the occasional leaf or berry branch. Today it was a sprig of lavender that lay so elegantly on the floor and as always it had a silver ribbon tied around it. Gingerly picking the bloom up and disappearing back into the depth of the room Himelon set to weaving the flower and ribbon into his hair. Anyone's guess as to who left the gifts and what purpose they served might have been better than that of the raven haired elf. Himelon did not know who left them or why they were there but he did enjoy putting them in his hair. It never failed that they wove ever so well with his mithril circlet. The raven haired elf stopped and chuckled at himself in the mirror when he caught sight of his reflection.

"If I keep putting flowers in my hair like this," Himelon laughed softly, "the whole of Arda will surely mistake me for a wood elf." Shaking his head the raven haired male turned and slid out the door and passed the guards currently prohibiting anyone from leave the palace. Ever since the flowers had begun appearing Thranduil had been, well, scarce to say the least. Himelon thought that there was maybe only one time that he had seen the Elven King since having been walked back from the healers. In the mean time Himelon had taken to wandering the forest and occasionally down into Laketown and once even going so far as Dale. The raven haired elf found it humorous that distances he thought close many elves of Greenwood considered far. Himelon had just chalked it up to the fact that he was used to traveling over the whole of Arda and they were not. None the less the raven haired elf had taken to wandering whether his hosts liked it or not. On this particular spring day the raven haired elf had begun following a small creek that cut through the deeper and less traversed parts of Greenwood. The water itself seemed more blue and its gurgling almost could have been soft laughter. Until the sun was low in the sky Himelon had followed the creek wherever it may go. From the heights near the palace all the way into a deep dark valley adorned with thorny rose bushed. Every rose seemed a different color and they almost seemed to glow.

Upon noting the hour Himelon let himself fall gently onto a nearby rock and dipped his feet into the pool the creek had eventually become. The pool itself swirled and shone with many different shades of greens and blues due to the gem-like pebbles that made up its bottom. The pool was no more than waist deep but looked rather inviting to the raven haired elf. He had been wandering around all day and was, quite frankly, very warm. Unlike most of him kin Himelon was rather sensitive to temperature. In the sense that he found environments warmer the sixty-two degrees to be exceedingly unpleasant. Without so much as a second thought the raven haired male removed his clothes and hung them up in a nearby tree while he slipped into the cool embrace of the pool. He floated there for what seemed like an eternity and the only signal that too much time had elapsed was the absence of the sun in the sky. Where golden light had bathed the forest in green, silver light now bathed it in lush blues that made the flowers growing around the pool grow even brighter. Going against his better judgment to re-dress and go back the way he came, Himelon gathered his garments, bow and blade under his left arm and on his right hip and ventured ever further into the deep forest.

As his path along where the creek had been flowing grew darker and darker Himelon got the sense that he was not really alone out in the woods. Before he had much time to think on it however the raven haired elf came across a clearing and a path that led to what appeared to be the ruins of an ancient shrine or perhaps even dwelling place. There were two door. On the right was a carving of Oromë, or Araw, depending on who was identifying him. The wood was birch wood and aromatic cedar and, despite being a bit worn with time, shone with a light of its own. It was inlaid with exquisite gems and was being held shut my mighty and ancient spells. On the left was carved the visage of Mandos, or Námo, depending on who was identifying him. As with the right door the left was adorned with glittering gems and kept shut by ancient and powerful spells. Unlike the right door however the left was made of deep, rich mahogany and fragrant pine intertwined. Smiling softly Himelon ran his fingers down both of the designs of the door and hummed and distantly familiar tune softly. These sorts of buildings were common in the very early ages of Middle Earth. Many elves had liked to build tributes to the Valar and it made sense to have one dedicated to Oromë and Mandos in Greenwood. Oromë being The Huntsman of the Valar, and The Great Rider and liking to hunt in the forests of Arda on occasion made him a shoe-in for a Silvan elf favorite. While the visage of Mandos was more of a nod to the Sindar royalty of the woodland realm. Being the Judge of the Dead, the Master of Doom and keeper of the souls of elves made him rather important to the more spiritual side of elves.

"Mandos should have a smaller smile," Himelon mused softly investigating the hinge of the door, "He's not exactly one to smile very much." Upon finding no way to force the door open Himelon turned his eyes back to the sky. It was long passed sunset and he likely would not make it back to the palace before sunrise even if he ran through most of the night. He wasn't exactly familiar with this part of Greenwood and hardly thought it wise to go running through a forest without knowing where he was going. Taking a deep breath Himelon began trying any and every password he could think of regarding the Valar. He tried every tongue from black speech to Westron and everything in between. It wasn't until the raven haired male simply tried saying "open door" in Valarin that they creaked open to reveal lavish rooms within. The right was adorned with green and gold while the left was bathed in blue and silver.

"Guess I'll stay here for the night," Himelon sighed as he entered the left room and flopped down on the bed still fully unclothed. No sooner had the raven haired elf begun to sleep was he awoken again by a soft scraping on the door. Growling softly Himelon opened the door to see who or what it was more out of habit that anything. Much to the raven haired male's surprise there stood, just beyond the threshold of the door, a pure white elk that stood much taller than any of its brown kin and seemed to have an odd glint in its eye. For a moment Himelon had anticipated the beast to speak but instead it simply inclined its head to the left. Getting the unsettling feeling that it was trying to get a better look at him Himelon retrieved part of his garment that he'd left by the door and wrapped his lower torso in it. For a moment the white elk almost seemed disappointed before trying to muscle its way inside the room.

"Well if you wanted in," Himelon half-laughed as he made way for the elk, "you could've just said so." Investigating the whole of the room, as best it could with its antlers' girth, the elk finally decided on laying down by the side of the bed where it could rest its head on the mattress.

"That's odd," the raven haired elf mused as he shut the door and crawled back into the bed, "I wouldn't think and elk would care where it lays its head." An indignant snort and toss of the head was all Himelon got as a reply. Shaking his head and letting out a chuckle the raven haired elf patted the elk softly on the head and curled up under the icy blue satin sheets with his back to the peculiar creature.


	33. Chapter 33

In the darkness of sleep there was a soft touch. A gentle weight. The soft caress of fine hair and the gentle brush of exhaled breath are what stirred Himelon to wakefulness the next morning. Not wanting to open his eyes, and assuming the weight and touch to be the elk, the raven haired elf groaned and rolled onto his stomach. The touch was momentarily interrupted before the weight settled itself in the small of Himelon's back and seemed to nuzzle into the small divot of his lower spine. Letting out a sigh and blinding groping for the source of the contact Himelon let his pale blue eyes crack open.

"No you stupid beast," the raven haired elf half-growled as his hand took hold of the weight and rather roughly shoved it off of him, "I wish to rest a while longer." Somewhere in the back of his mind Himelon thought he heard soft footsteps but that was soon forgotten as he felt himself drift away from the conscious world. However, no sooner had Himelon fallen into the embrace of unconsciousness that he was pulled awake again by the tight grip of a hand pulling him upward by his hair.

"A stupid beast am I?" the words had be spoken with something a kin at a laugh and growl combined, "And here I thought you would enjoy being awoken so sweetly." The voice was familiar to Himelon although his sleep-dazed mind could not yet place it. Grabbing for the hand in his hair and jerking left in attempt to dislodge the hand's grip, Himelon wrenched his eyes open to look directly upon the individual to whom the voice belonged. Standing there beside the bed with a hand defiantly knotted in raven locks was Thranduil. He was completely nude save for a piece of sliver fabric that hung delicately around his lithe, pale frame. His icy eyes were fixed upon the raven haired male in an oddly soft glare while his starlight hair draped over his broad shoulders due to the fact that the Elven King's stance leaned slightly forward. Blinking dumbly, much like when he had run into Thranduil's elk, Himelon felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he swatted at the other's hand and forced his eyes not to wander from the starlight haired elf's face.

"How did you get in here?" the question left from Himelon's lips with a life of its own as the raven haired elf felt his features fix into an embarrassed glare. Himelon was not appreciating the grip in his hair nor the surprise appearance of the king.

"You let me in last night," Thranduil spoke as softly as a spring breeze as his eyebrows raised and his stare softened slightly, "I thought you'd realized that." In truth Thranduil had thought Himelon had known it to be him when the raven haired elf had covered himself under the other's gaze. Part of him even felt hurt that Himelon had not seen that it was him in his elk eyes.

"No," the raven haired elf retorted finally freeing his hair from Thranduil's grip and inclining his head to the side in confusion, "I let in an oddly smart white elk last night. I would have remembered letting you in." Now Himelon was just plain confused. He wasn't stupid. He knew and elk from and elf and was fairly certain he wouldn't have been so tired as to imagine Thranduil as an elk. He could also put two and two together. Thranduil was asserting that he had been the elk, but to the best of the raven haired male's knowledge, there were very few elves left in Middle Earth who possessed the power to change their form. Part of him simply could not believe that the young, starlight haired elf King was one of those few.

"That elk was me," Thranduil now spoke softly while trying to hide the hurt he now so deeply felt, "How could you not have known it to be me when you looked in my eyes?" Although Thranduil had kept the hurt, for the most part, out of his voice, he knew he hadn't been able to keep it out of his eyes. His gazed turned dark and sorrowful even as he thought about it. Most elves could identify even the mangled remains of their beloved aft a battle and yet Himelon could not identify him by looking into his eyes? That thought was painful beyond belief from Thranduil. How could they profess to be together if one could not identify the other even when they stood only a few inches from their face?

"Because you were an elk!" the reply had come as an exasperated cry from Himelon as he waved his left hand in the other's general direction, "I mean, being looked up and down by a white elk made me oddly uncomfortable, but still, I did not know you could change your form! Why did you not tell me?" In truth a part of Himelon had known. I had gnawed at him and had prompted him to cover himself as the white elk had stared at him. Even so the raven haired elf was not fully aware of this. He simply knew that he had felt uncomfortable under the elk's gaze the previous night.

"It never came up…" Thranduil seemed to be absent from himself as he took in the other male's words. Himelon had felt uncomfortable under his gaze and had covered himself. A small smile played over Thranduil's face as he made an assumption based on that. He assumed that something in Himelon's mind had seen him there and triggered that embarrassment. It was, to the Elven King, a comforting thought.

"I think," the starlight haired elf continued as he inched closer to the other, "that you did know it was me but were too sleep dazed to consciously recognize it. Am I wrong?" Thranduil had gone from anger, to hurt, to mischievous all in a short span of time. To Himelon, the other's emotional swing seemed odd, but them again Thranduil was technically a wood elf, because of where he lived, and wood elves were not generally known for being less than emotional.

"I cannot refute that such a thing is greatly possible," Himelon nodded softly as he moved backward as Thranduil neared him. He didn't know what the starlight haired elf king was planning, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to find out.

"Why do you shirk away from me like a frightened deer?" the starlight haired elf had tilted his head to the side as he laid down on the bed and reached out for the other with a gentle smile, "I am not a wolf come to devour you." Himelon's blush had increased at Thranduil's last statement and the starlight haired elf's smile had grown upon seeing it. He hadn't intended his words to be taken that way, but seeing Himelon blush and pull the bed sheets to cover himself more was rather enjoyable.

"I don't know what you plan to do," Himelon's words had been accented by a deep blush and him huddling on the opposite end of the bed with the covers. Thranduil had let out a gentle but heartfelt laugh as he rolled onto his stomach and tried to present himself in the least threatening way he could. Of course the raven haired male was skeptical. They both wore non-substantial clothing, were in a bed out in the middle of Greenwood, and Thranduil had just seemed to appear out of thin air to Himelon. Only a mad person would not be at least a little nervous given the circumstances. Himelon's seemingly jumpy nature made Thranduil's been behavior seem, not doubt, even more strange to the raven haired elf.

"I plan," Thranduil purred as he saw Himelon lean a bit closer as he retracted his hand, "to kiss you good morning. If you would permit me." Thranduil's silky voice sent shivers up the other's spine and almost seduced him into crawling over and snuggling up to the Elven King. Almost.

"No." Himelon had announced the word with all the power and authority of royalty as he rose and quickly retrieved his clothing, "We have not seen each other since the festival and you just appear here and expect me to kiss you and do Valar knows what else? What kind of elf do you take me for? I am not a squealing chamber maid who you can ignore one second and have your way with another." Himelon's words had accused Thranduil of much and were more than a little shocking to the starlight haired elf. The first shock was the authority with which Himelon spoke to him. No one else had dared speak to him as if they were his equal and perhaps even above him. The second came from the fact that Thranduil, having seen his little gifts in Himelon's hair, had assumed the raven haired elf knew that the flowers that appeared by his door daily were from him. And the third came from Himelon's obvious misunderstanding of how he thought of him. Not even for a second had Thranduil thought of Himelon as anything less than the enchanter of his soul. He had always tried to be ever so careful as to not do anything that might upset or mislead the other.

"I have visited you daily," Thranduil spoke gently as he approached the now fully clothed male, "I have left you gifts from the forest and you have woven them in your hair. I have even followed you in all of your mischievous travels to watch over you. Did you truly not know this?" The starlight haired elf was genuinely confused. Most anyone else would have known all this and yet Himelon seemed clueless.

"I did not," now it was Himelon's turn to be shocked. He had truly not known. He had been clueless as to who brought the flowers and had certainly not known that Thranduil had been following him. Then again he had not cared to take note of exactly which elks wandered by him in the forest and, now at least, there was no doubt Thranduil had other ways of disguising himself. "I apologize," the two words had practically been whispered as Himelon felt his face heat up and his eyes fall to the sturdy marble floor of the room. He really was socially inept wasn't he?

"It is my fault," the starlight haired elf King had sighed softly as he approached the other and tilted Himelon's head up to look at him, "I should not have assumed you to be aware of these things. You have long dwelt in Arda without the company of your kin to teach you such things." Thranduil's eyes were soft and inviting. Himelon really couldn't help himself as he leaned in and snuggled gently into Thranduil's nearly bare chest. The raven haired elf knew apologies would likely get him no where and, in truth, he was quite content to just stand there and listen to the sound of Thranduil's strong and steady heartbeat.

"Let us return to the palace," after a few moments Thranduil broke the embrace and led Himelon outside, "The guards are likely in a panic due to my long absence." Himelon let out a mischievous laugh at the thought of the guards rushing around in a panic. Part of him really liked the idea of seeing the guards of Greenwood scatter and scurry like ants under the hot sun. He was abruptly brought out of his musings by a blinding white light the seemed to emanate from Thranduil as they crossed the threshold of the building in which they had spent the night. As the light faded Himelon found his hand resting of plush white fur instead of soft, creamy skin. Thranduil had changed form into the white elk again and now was kneeling slightly to let Himelon climb onto his back.

"Shall we go?" The elk tilted its head slightly in anticipation of Himelon climbing aboard, "I will be faster if you let me carry you." Himelon blinked a few times but ultimately nodded and climbed onto Thranduil's back. Not only was Himelon amazed that Thranduil would allow him to ride astride his back, but he also found it incredibly sweet that the Great Elven King would have even bothered to follow him around. Gripping Thranduil's neck tightly as they sped through the forest Himelon resolved that he would find some way to reciprocate and learn more about the things that were expected of elves while they were courting.


	34. Chapter 34

Pale blue butterflies. These were what awoke Thranduil every morning as of late. It had been nearly a week since he had last seen Himelon. Usually the starlight haired elf could at least find the other, but recently even he was powerless to locate the raven haired ellon. In Himelon's absence the butterflies had appeared. There was a new one every morning and none were like the others. They each shone and fluttered with delicate life despite being made of glittering sapphire and diamond. Much like Thranduil's gifts to the other, the butterflies appeared every morning just as Thranduil was beginning to wake. And yet their sender was nowhere to be found. Aside from the butterflies and Himelon's general absence, Thranduil had noticed a few interesting abnormalities. His forest grew ever greener and brighter. At first he had mistaken this for being a result of his lifted spirits, but then he had seen flowers growing that never had grown in Greenwood before. The palace was cool as early winter even though it was mid-spring. A curiosity that Thranduil had not taken much note of until he found his throne perpetually covered in frost. His favorite foods and wine always seemed to appear whenever he was getting hungry. He never got the chance to order a servant to get something because it appeared whenever he would think about it. And there were always fresh ingredients set and ready for him when he would sneak off to bake pies. Of course the ingredients were normally ready, but the abnormality was the fact that they were set up for him and the oven was often already heated.

Sighing softly Thranduil scooped up the butterfly that had landed on his nose and moved toward his wardrobe. As expected there was a full glass of wine and some honey glazed biscuits with fruit sitting on a small table by his bed. Unexpectedly there was also an elegantly wrapped package laying on the plush chair next to the table. It was a medium sized box wrapped in black silk with a silver ribbon holding the silk wrapping on. Upon gingerly removing the wrapping with slender fingers, Thranduil found a box made of expertly carved birch and cedar wood inside. It was carved with intricate designs that depicted what appeared to be a history at first glance, but Thranduil soon realized to be something else entirely. As he studied the carvings he found one that depicted one elf riding atop an elk while another collided into it. The memory made him smile warmly. As the grin spread Thranduil couldn't help shaking the box like an elf-ling who'd just gotten a present for winter solstice.

When the sound of the package gave him no clue, the Elven King carefully lifted the lid to reveal a garment. It was a long silver robe that seemed to have steaks of darker and lighter grays weaving with the silver to give the effect of a tree trunk. It had a high neck and draped elegantly to the floor pooling around his ankles and trailing a good 12 to 16 inches behind him. On the front the was a gentle slit that revealed the black trousers and black leather boots that had accompanied the robe. The robe itself was held together by a delicate yet regal spider broach. The centerpiece was a gem made of moonlight and the spindling legs were woven silver and mithril. After admiring the way the robe hung around him and the obvious care that had been taken to ensure that it fit him perfectly, the starlight haired ellon searched the box for a card or note of some kind, but none was to be found.

"This makes my gifts look pitiful," Thranduil half laughed, half groaned to himself as he slipped out into the hall, "It's supposed to be my job to give the gifts too isn't it? I mean, I'm courting him right? Not the other way around…" Stopping to let out another sigh Thranduil ran his fingers over the material and smiled. It was perfect and he couldn't help but love the robe. From the moment he'd pulled it out of the box he knew it would become his new favorite outfit. And from the looks he was getting from all who saw it, it had become a favorite of his subjects as well. For the good part of the day Thranduil wandered looking for Himelon. Of course his search had been disguised as going about his duties so as not to upset or concern anyone, but he was none-the-less searching. Around nightfall Thranduil had allowed himself to collapse, in a rather undignified manner, into his throne. No sooner had his head titled back and his gaze turned to the ceiling that the starlight haired King caught sight of something. Or rather someone. It had been only for a second, but on one of the high arching branches that supported the palace there had been a person. Without realizing what he was doing, the starlight haired male was racing through the palace with his face turned toward the ceiling. It wasn't until he had entered one of his private studies that he caught sight of the figure again. This time however, it dropped from it's place above, to the ground below. With curiosity and caution Thranduil rounded the corner to see who exactly it was that was sneaking around his palace.

"Looks like I've been found out," Himelon laughed softly as his pale blue eyes met Thranduil's icy blue orbs, "I do hope everything has been to your liking." Himelon stood there grinning like an elf-ling who'd just gotten caught misbehaving. In one hand he elegantly balanced a tray of food and wine and in the other he clutched a book. It was a simple book. Thin and gently bound with fern leaves, but Thranduil knew it. Oropher had shown it to Thranduil when he had come of age explaining that everything one would need to know about courtship could be found within its pages. With the realization of what Himelon was holding came powerful, deep laughter.

"Don't laugh!" the raven haired male indignantly commanded setting down the tray and hiding the book, "Isn't this how its supposed to work? Little gifts and care for the other's needs secretly?" Himelon puffed out his cheeks slightly as he watched Thranduil lean on a chair to support himself as he tried to stifle the laughter. Himelon had been trying fairly hard to understand what his kin deemed proper courtship protocol. After asking around, the King's personal healer had directed him to the book and told him that what was in the book was all he needed to know. However, the healer had failed to mention that since Thranduil was courting him and not the other way around, the contents of the book described what he should expect to see from Thranduil. Not what he would be expected to do.

"Forgive me," Thranduil finally managed after regaining his regal composure, "It's just, that book isn't meant for you to follow. It's supposed to be my job to follow what the book says." Thranduil's grin was gentle and not mocking as he gently removed the book from the other's grip and returned it to its proper shelf. Himelon on the other hand, looked more than a little distraught.

"I guess I can't do any of this stuff right," the raven haired male had spoke barely above a whisper as he peered out the window at the setting sun, "Something always goes wrong…" Thranduil felt his grin fall away as he saw Himelon's hand subconsciously come up to brush the left side of his face. Without another word Thranduil slid gently behind the other and pulled Himelon to his chest. Nuzzling his head softly into the crook of the raven haired elf's neck Thranduil planted a soft kiss and hummed gently until he felt Himelon relax and lean into him.

"I see nothing wrong with being different," Thranduil's voice had been barely above a whisper as he gently maneuvered them both so that Himelon was sitting in his lap, "Everything you've done has been with sincerity. And you already seem to know so much about my likes and dislikes. Not many others can claim such a thing. Just don't disappear on me again okay?" Himelon smiled gently and snuggled into the Elven King with a whispered "Okay". When Thranduil felt the raven haired male's breathing even out, he moved to retrieve the wine. After taking a drink he gently offered it to Himelon who in turn took a drink. That was how they spent the evening. In each other's arms, sharing the meal Himelon had been carrying with him.


	35. Chapter 35

Snow. It was nearly winter solstice and there was snow everywhere. Many of the Silvan elves had taken to remaining inside if they could help it while of few of the visiting Sindar elves couldn't seem to be kept out of it. Himelon was among the snow obsessed. More than once Thranduil or a guard had found the raven haired ellon passed out in the snow or half covered in a newly fallen snow drift from sleeping outside. At first this had been very alarming to the Elven King. Most elves, despite their seeming imperviousness to the cold, found being cold exceedingly undesirable. Himelon on the other hand, was always cold and seemed to become ever livelier the colder he, and the weather, became. The starlight haired king had been initially worried this might be a sign of illness. After speaking with the visiting Lord Elrond however, Thranduil had discovered that was just who Himelon was. He was born to be of ice and starlight.

On this day in particular though, the raven haired elf male was plotting how in properly introduce a certain Elven King to snow and ice. From observing Thranduil's careful movements to avoid getting more than ankle deep in snow, Himelon had figured the Elven King had perhaps never really been properly introduced. As far as the raven haired elf was concerned, snow and cold were comfort and safety. Not something to be avoided. And so the plotting had begun. Once Thranduil had slipped off to his private bathing chambers Himelon made a point of taking all of the Elven King's fabric so there would be nothing left to cover up with. After properly hiding it Himelon had placed himself firmly on the window sill with a simple silver sleeping robe in hand and waited for the emergence of the none too pleased Thranduil.

"What sort of stupid servant thinks it's okay to take my clothes!" the exclamation of the Elven King had been punctuated by the aggressive flinging open of the doors to his private bathing chambers. Continuing to rant aggressively Thranduil hadn't taken notice of the raven haired ellon smirking at him as he rummaged around the room for something to wear.

"Looking for something?" Himelon's soft voice had ripped through Thranduil's agitated haze as he stiffened and slowly shuffled around the nearest chair to hide his lower half. Thranduil had been surprisingly careful to shield himself to spare the other all of the details. In response to Thranduil's furrowed brow and white knuckle grip on the chair, he received delicate and melodious laughter. It was the first time since meeting the raven haired ellon that Thranduil had seen him smile and laugh like that. It was mirthful and Himelon looked…playful. Yet another first for the Elven King.

"So you took them." Thranduil half sighed with a tilt of his head and an ever more furrowed brow, "Why exactly?" Part of the starlight haired male thought he knew why, but the rest was eager to know.

"Because I want to show you something," Himelon chuckled as he threw the thin silver sleeping robe into Thranduil's grasp. No sooner had Thranduil slipped the material on had Himelon led him over to a wide open window. The cold air from outside made the Elven King's skin turn slightly pink and he instinctively reached to close the window.

"Why exactly would I need to be nude to see this?" Thranduil's tone had become rather agitated again and Himelon's own grasp thwarting his attempt to close the window wasn't helping things.

"Not to see it," Himelon grinned as he turned Thranduil around and sat him down of the window sill, "To experience it." Before Thranduil could even get a breath to speak in, the raven haired ellon's pale hand had made contact with his broad chest and the starlight haired male was falling backwards. In a mass of rather undignified flailing and a small sharp gasp Thranduil had managed to grab onto a sleeve of ebony fabric and before Himelon could process what was happening, he too found himself being pulled out the window and down to the snow below.


	36. Chapter 36

In an instant everything had changed. The world spun and inverted while Himelon's feet left the ground. Icy air whipped through hair and fabric while the familiar sense of a fluttering stomach took hold. Nothing was solid and, even though the fall lasted only a few seconds, it seemed to be an eternity of chopped up images as the pair tumbled from the window to the snow bank below, and rolled out into a more flat area of the snow dusted forest. Thranduil had landed first. Sharp and with a thud that nearly knocked the wind out of him. What came next succeeded where the ground had failed. Only a few seconds behind the Elven King came a certain raven haired elf who landed directly on Thranduil's abdomen. It was the second impact that started the roll. No sooner had the starlight haired King let out a forced gasp did they start tumbling again. And when it was all over Thranduil found himself instinctively propped up on his hands and knees gasping for breath and coughing. At the moment he didn't care how ungraceful it may be. He just needed air. Not far away Himelon had found his way back to his feet and staggered slightly toward the other.

"Thranduil?" the raven haired ellon whispered gently as he laid a slender, cold hand on the starlight haired male's shoulder, "Are you hurt?" The concern was evident in Himelon's voice. He knew that he had fallen directly on the other and was fairly certain something in his own back had popped on impact, but Thranduil's coughing and shuddering breaths were of greater concern at the moment to him. No sooner had the hand been laid ever so gently on the blonde's shoulder had Thranduil taken grasp of it and yanked Himelon down to the ground.

"You," Thranduil half purred, half growled as he pinned the other face down in the snow, "are going to pay for that." The words had been whispered only a hair's breadth away from Himelon's ear and the threat sent gentle shivers along his spine.


End file.
